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♦ 

THE 


HEART OF A ROSE 


A 

NARRATIVE DRAMA 


BY 

W I 1 . L I A M M A R A B E L L 

Author of “Sherman Watterson” 






FIRS'J’ EDITION 


THE KLKBOLI) PRESS 

!■ U H E I S H E R S 
NEW YORK 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Recel\«cl 

APR 14 1906 




Copyiijr^t Entry 


/f c> ^ 

CLASS CL XXc. No. 


Copyright 1906 
BY 

WILLIAM MARA BELL 


PREFACE 


I have called this a Narrative Drama because it was writ- 
ten mainly with an eye to a possible public presentation. 
Of course, every novel, every tale or story, whatever its 
avowed purpose, is a narrative drama ; but there is a differ- 
ence between the drama as presented upon the stage and 
that which makes its way between the covers of a book. 
The drama deals fundamentally with human nature, with 
life’s realities only as a background ; while the novel depicts 
life primarily with human nature as the governing principle. 
This, of course, applies more especially to the higher drama 
and the more purposeful novel ; and, while this book makes 
no particular pretensions to being either, as far as it goes 
it should be judged from the dramatic standpoint purely. 
I simply have chosen to present a somewhat fantastic con- 
ception in the form of a narrative, rather than in the accepted 
dramatic form, because the narrative form is more familiar 
to me — or, rather, let me say because the dramatic form is 
totally unfamiliar, and I was unwilling to put so slight a 
matter to so severe a trial without first in a manner testing 
its quality. 

The sum of which no doubt is nothing more than that he 
who employs one form of art to air pretensions to another 
should have at least an ingenious excuse handy to ward off 
critical wrath and indignation. Yet the truth is that there 
is much to be said in support of my venture. There is for 
one thing no raw pretense in this manner of presentation. 


You are not asked to spend a doubtful evening in a stuffy 
theater, and, should the story eventually attain to the dig- 
nity of its purpose, it can only be by the grace of inherent 
dramatic quality which must make itself sufficiently man- 
ifest in the reading to warrant a public production. In 
the meantime, should the story fail to interest you in narra- 
tive form, it cannot possibly hope to do so under auspices 
doubly calculated to bring out any defects of action or of 
character, which foregone conclusion cannot but be a com- 
fort, conveying as it does a saving sense of immunity. I 
could, in fact, deduce a hundred negative virtues, the sum 
of which would leave you vastly in my debt — always pro- 
vided the story itself is sufficiently positive in quality to 
make the consideration of negative virtues worth the while. 

W. M. 


CONTENTS 


Part I, — The Rose 
Part II. — The Dream 


Part III. — The Awakening 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 


Edward Carlton^ 

Robert Felton, 

Judge Wainwright, Brother-in-law to Mrs. Wainwright. 
The Rev. Mr. Draper. 

Mrs. Draper, his wife. 

Mrs. Felton, Robert’s mother. 

Gertrude, ) ^ 

. V helton s sisters. 

Agnes, j 

Julia, the nurse. 

Mrs. Wainwright. 

Elizabeth, 

Jennie, | 

Alice, Her daughters. 

Katydid, j 

Laura, J 

Margaret. 

Gnomes, a Doctor, Etc., Etc. 


I Rivals. 


Time — Christmas, A. D. 1904. 


Part I 


THE ROSE 



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Mrs. Wainwright, smiling a placid smile of motherly 
content, sank into her favorite rocker, in the midst of a tre- 
mendous hubbub and confusion created by five little maidens 
preparing for an outing of a more or less festive character. 
This was evidenced by the elaborate scale on which prepara- 
tions were going forward, and the high pressure of excite- 
ment attending them, which found vent in much spasmodic 
giggling and endless rushing to and fro, with little protest- 
ing shrieks of delight or dismay intermingling. 

“It is nearly three o’clock, darlings,” said Mrs. Wain- 
wright, setting the rocker into gentle motion and folding 
her plump little white hands in her lap ; “you’ll be late if you 
don’t hurry.” 

Fat little Laura, sitting upon the floor at her mother’s 
feet, squealed protestingly and desperately tugged at a re- 
fractory stocking. Alice, over in one corner, under dusky 
Julia’s hands, was undergoing the torment which naturally 
attends the arranging of tangled locks, crying out in pain 
every now and then, and tearfully appealing to Mama 
against Nursie’s rough handling. Katy, the tomboy, was 
wrangling with Jennie in the doorway which opened into 
an inner room. Elizabeth, as became a dignified little miss 
of sixteen, kept an authoritative eye upon her smaller sisters 
while putting the finishing touches to her own toilet. Mrs. 
Wainwright rocked placidly and smiled upon them all. 

“Here, Laura, dear,” said Elizabeth, opportunely coming 
to the assistance of the littlest maid when, reduced to despair 


10 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


by the stocking whose heel simply would persist in entrap- 
ping her little pink toes, Laura was about to burst into a 
wail of grief. “Let me help you.” 

“Mama, Nursie’s all time pullin’ my hair, so she is!” 
Alice cried out indignantly. 

“Wha’ foh you don’ stan’ still, den?” demanded Nursie in 
guttural tones. 

“Am standin’ still. Mama,” Alice declared, tearfully. 
“Ouch ! There she goes again. Oh, oh, oh ! Whe-e-e-e !” 

Julia laughed softly and cuddled her little charge tenderly 
in her arms until the hurt was forgotten. 

“Mama, Mama!” shrieked Jennie. “Katy won’t let 
me alone; she won’t.” 

“Katy, be good !” admonished Mama. 

“Am good,” Katy cried, obstreperously. 

“You’re not, if you keep teasing Jennie.” 

“Not teasing Jennie,” cried Katy, more obstreperously 
than ever. 

“Oh, Katy!” said Mama, reproachfully. 

Whereupon Katy rose up, and, rushing across the room, 
hurled herself bodily upon the little mother, embracing her 
tumultuously. 

“Want a hundred kisses,” she announced, shrilly. 

“No,” said Mama, turning away her face. 

“Want a hundred kisses,” insisted Katy, vehemently. 

“But you’re naughty,” said Mama, severely. 

Katy ignored the accusation with a toss of her little head. 

“Want a hundred kisses!” she shrieked, clinging like a 
kitten around her mother’s neck, and patting her cheeks with 
tender little pats. 

“Will you be good?” 

“Am good ! Want a hundred kisses !” 

“One,” said Mama, relenting. 


THE ROSE. 


11 


“Ten, ten, ten, ten !” cried the determined little maid, with 
much resolution. 

“I want some kisses, too. Mama !’’ cried Laura, eagerly 
eluding Elizabeth and approaching on the run; “I want 
kisses, I do.” 

“Oh, you do!” said Katy, aged seven, glaring down at 
four-year-old Laura. “Baby !” she cried, scathingly. 

Laura paused, finger in mouth, to gaze solemnly up at 
Katy, who in turn glared down with blighting scorn. 

“Go ’way,” said Katy, imperiously. 

“Won’t,” said Laura, quivering but undaunted. 

“Baby !” cried Katy again, with withering emphasis, turn- 
ing up her little nose with dignity, and, before that evidence 
of lady-like superiority, Laura’s stoic calm gave way to 
convulsive rage and grief. She broke into a storm of sobs. 

“Katy, how can you !” Mama cried out. 

But Katy now was choking her with her tight little arms 
and smothering her with kisses. 

“Ten, ’leven, fourteen, twenty-two, seventeen, eighteen, 
twenty-one — ” 

“Katy, will you be go — ?” 

“Ninety-six, seventy— ’leven, forty-five, fifty-nine—” 

“Katy, I am very ang — ” 

“Sixty, sixty-one, sixty-seven, ninety, ninety-four, ninety- 
nine, one hundred.” 

And, with a shriek of triumphant delight, the little mad- 
cap sprang away, while Mama, flushed and touseled, but 
smiling, took up the grief-stricken Laura in her arms to 
soothe her with many soft caresses and laughing little ejac- 
ulations of tender deprecation. 

“Baby, baby, baby!” shrieked Katy from the doorway — 
then darted away, with Alice and Jennie in hot pursuit. 

With Katy gone, Laura was quieted without difficulty ; 


12 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


and soon, under Elizabeth’s charge, and preceded by Ma- 
ma and Julia, she followed after her sisters downstairs into 
the parlor, where the three madcaps were waiting in a glow 
of excitement and impatience. Then followed some mo- 
ments of final adjustment of hats and muffs and mittens, 
intermingling with placid admonitions from the mother as 
to their coming behavior, after which they were off, out 
upon the verandah, down the broad walk and so into the 
frosty street, where they presently passed, with many waves 
and airy kisses, beyond Mrs. Wainwright’s vision as she 
stood in the great window watching their departure. 

“Now, Nursie,” said Mrs. Wainwright, turning briskly 
into the room. “Let’s get the funny little dwarfs in place 
before Margy comes in and sees them. The cunning little 
men, Julia, and the vases: bring them into the drawing- 
room at once.” 

“Miss Margy done seen ’em. Missy Flora,” said Julia, 
gravely. 

“She hasT cried Mrs. Wainwright, dismayed. “Why, 
how dared she?” 

“Dunno, Missy/’ Julia replied, stolidly. “Spec’s she’s 
here when dey done come. Yassum, Ah reckon she was. 
Missy Flora. She an’ dat man go way in big red debbil 
jus’ when man fotch ’em.” 

“Oh, dear !” sighed the little woman, despondently. “An’ 

I did so want to surprise her. Goodness!” she exclaimed 
at sound of a loud chug-chugging from without, which pro- 
claimed a giant auto at a standstill in the^street outside. 
“Here they come now.” 

She rushed to the window and drew aside the curtain, 
peering out. 

“Oh, Nursie, quick ! It’s Brother George — the Judge, 
Julia !” she shrieked. 


THE ROSE. - 


13 


“Room’s all ready, Missy. Fire goin’ nice. Yes, in- 
deedy.” 

“Are you sure? Oh, dear! I’m so delighted! Good 
Brother George !” the little woman cried, once more peer- 
ing out. The giant motor was just disappearing around 
the corner at some distance from the house ; while, mount- 
ing the wide steps to the verandah, the visitor was coming 
briskly into the house. 

Mrs. Wainwright rushed into the hall, and at the door 
welcomed her brother-in-law with a rapturous embrace 
which somewhat seemed to embarrass the good gentleman, 
who let fall his suitcase, however, to meet her half way. 
A handsome, well-preserved man of sixty-odd years, with a 
plentiful stock of iron-gray hair and a long, flowing white 
mustache, which set off his large, florid face to great ad- 
vantage, Judge Wainwright, with his broad shoulders and 
towering, straight figure, presented an appearance of sol- 
dierly dignity and grace that won the eye at a glance. 

“I’m so glad. Brother, dear,” Mrs. Wainwright was say- 
ing breathlessly from out of the folds of his greatcoat, in 
which she had fairly lost herself. “I’m so pleased, Brother 
George. I’m delighted. I’m overjoyed. I can’t tell you!” 

Brother George laughed a mellow laugh, and, with his 
sister tucked under his arm he made for the parlor, where, 
after divesting himself of his heavy ulster, with Mrs. Wain- 
wright’s energetic assistance, he drew up an armchair to 
the fire, rubbing his hands briskly and stretching them forth 
to the blaze of the old-fashioned open fireplace, in which a 
great coal fire glowed redly. 

“Cold out. Flora,” he said, in a rich, deep voice, smiling 
very cheerily. “Babies all gone?” 

“Yes, Brother, dear,” replied the little woman, who still 
was fluttering about him, anxious for his comfort. “Carry 


14 . 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


the good Judge’s things to his room, Julia; there’s a good 
nursie. Gone to the church festival, all of them, Brother 
George. Margy, too, is away. — gone with that odjous, 
wicked, conceited wretch,” she ended, vindictively. 

‘‘Why, Flora,” the Judge cried out, laughing. “What’s 
the trouble, eh?” 

Mrs. Wainwright, seating herself opposite him, plunged 
into a somewhat incoherent account of the worry which 
Margaret was occasioning her by reason of her perverse 
infatuation for a certain youth, whom she characterized as 
“an odjous, wicked, conceited wretch,” which infatuation 
she was sure would alienate a certain “Edward, dear,” who 
loved Margy so, and was so sweet and good. The Judge 
listened with smiling, friendly eyes to the plaintive little 
treble. Julia returning from above stairs moved noiselessly 
about the room, setting things to rights, the while her small 
mistress talked unceasingly. 

Mrs. Wainwright, it may as well be explained in passing, 
was the widow of General Wainwright, the Judge’s only 
brother, who had served his country with honor for over 
forty years. Enlisting in the great war. General Wain- 
wright had risen from the ranks to the highest position in 
the army, that of ranking general, which post he had filled 
with distinction for a period of eighteen months, when he 
was retired, having reached the age limit, and, with his 
family, settled at Westport. He did not live long to enjoy 
his well-earned rest. A man of intense activity, devoted 
heart and soul to the service in which he had spent the 
greater part of his life, he pined away within a year and 
died, leaving behind a youthful widow and six daughters, 
of whom Margaret was the eldest and the flower. The 
family was left well provided for, and the widow, by reason 
of her late husband’s high position, was looked upon as the 


THE ROSE. 


15 


first personage in Westport. Judge Wainwright became 
the natural guardian of the children. Mrs. Wainwright ap- 
pealed to him in all difficulties for guidance and counsel. 

Usually her troubles were of a trivial character, magnified 
out of all proportion by a mind in a constant state of fussy 
worriment. Katy, the tomboy, was so naughty, or Alice so 
mischievous. The weather was so uncertain; the servants 
so careless ; provisions so dear, and so on and so forth. 
The Judge generally succeeded in relieving her mind with 
a cordial word or two, but to-day there was matter of larger 
moment. Reduced to the plainest terms, the little widow’s 
story ran about as follows : 

Against her mother’s earnest wishes, and at the risk of 
alienating Mr. Carlton, a lawyer of note in Westport, and 
a rising politician in the Empire State, the naughty, willful 
girl persisted in encouraging the attention of a certain 
young stranger, a visitor at Westport, whom Mrs. Wain- 
wright strongly distrusted. Margaret had met him at a 
summer resort, and the impudent fellow had followed her 
to Westport, where he now was staying, ostensibly to fish, 
but really to court Margaret. Margy invited this flashy 
stranger to the house, entertained him of evenings in the 
parlor, walked with him, danced with him, roved about the 
country with him in his giant motor, and generally con- 
ducted herself in Mr. Carlton’s absence like a naughty, will- 
ful, headstrong girl. 

In the very midst of this recital came again the rapid chug- 
chugging of a giant motor, and the little woman, starting 
up with a shriek, rushed to the window. 

“There she is. Brother dear,” she cried, excitedly. '‘Oh, 
oh, oh, oh! — the odjous, wicked, conceited wretch! How 
he lifts her down ! Do look. Brother George. There he’s 
going. Oh, you’d better go ; you’d better go !” cried the in- 


IG 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. • 


trepid little woman, shaking her fist with such a vindictive 
little face that the Judge, coming slowly up, broke into 
a shout of laughter. 

‘•What make is the motor?” he asked, gazing with some 
eagerness out at the great red auto, which, however, was 
already spinning rapidly away, driven by a youth in heavy 
furs, who turned at the corner to wave his hand to a girl, 
his late companion, who paused upon the topmost step of 
the verandah to return his farewell message. 

“Too bad,” murmured the Judge, somewhat vexed. 
“That young man is certainly in a hurry. Does he come 
around often. Flora?” 

“He’s an odjous, wicked, conceited wretch, so he is,” 
said Mrs. Wainwright, plumping herself down once more. 

The banging of the front door was succeeded by the 
sound of some one running rapidly upstairs. 

“That’s Margy,” said the mother, with pretty pride, nod- 
ding at the Judge. 

She was a plump little woman, fair and round and rosy, 
with a trembling little mouth and large, babyish eyes — an 
absurdly pretty woman to be the mother of six children, 
one now grown to womanhood. 

She plunged anew into her tale' of woe, in the midst of 
which Margaret herself came softly into the room, and for 
a moment or two remained unobserved in the background, 
listening to her mother’s plaintive recital, until a little 
ejaculation from Julia betrayed her presence to her mother. 

“Oh, Margy !” cried that little dame, starting up. “Here’s 
Uncle 'George. Kiss him, dear. He only just came, didn’t 
you. Brother dear? Came to spend the holidays, Margy. 
Just think! Kiss him, darling.” 

Which Margy accordingly did very sweetly, pressing her 
soft, dimpled cheek to her uncle’s very lovingly before 


THE ROSE. 


17 


releasing him. The Judge patted her arm with a gentle 
hand, and gazed at her with pride as, after giving her 
mother a little hug, she stationed herself behind her chair, 
across which she fixed her uncle with a glance of fire. 

“Go on. Mama,’' she said, quietly. 

“Oh, Margy, you know you’re naughty,” Mrs. Wain- 
wright cried, plaintively appealing to the Judge. “He is 
such a good young man, is Mr. Carlton,” she continued, 
noting with some trepidation her daughter’s stormy glances. 
“And he loves Margy so^ and he is so good and steady and 
so devoted to his old mother. I’m sure he would make my 
darling happy. He has been courting her for years, and 
she loved him once— you did, Margy, you know you did! 
And now this young man has come and turned her silly 
head with his flatteries. And she so wilful ! He would 
never have come to Westport if Margy hadn’t encouraged 
him. I’m sure. And I think it’s a perfect shame the way 
she’s treating poor Mr. Carlton— him away at Albany, 
assemblian and all, and Margy carrying on so at home! 
And he has loved her from a child.” 

“Who is this young man?” asked Judge Wainwright. 

“Uncle George,” said Margaret, facing him indignantly ; 
“please do not interfere.” 

“But, Margy,” replied the Judge, mildly; “I am asking 
only who he is.” 

“You are interfering,” said the girl. 

“Margy, how can you be so rude?” cried her mother, 
wringing her hands helplessly. 

“I told you. Mama,” Margy replied, tossing her head 
spiritedly. “I told you long ago that I would tolerate no 
interference in my affairs. You should not have spoken to 
Uncle George about me and what concerns me alone.” 

“Hear her!” cried Mrs. Wainwright, beating her hands 


18 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


together in an agony of helplessness. “Her marriage con- 
cerns her only ! Her own mother who bore her and nursed 
her and loved her may say no word ! She may wreck her 
whole future, and I must stand by and look on without 
lifting a finger to prevent it ! Oh, oh, oh, oh I” 

“Your mother has only your good at heart, Margy,” said 
Judge Wainwright, gravely. 

“No doubt, Uncle,” Margy replied, with scorn; “but I 
consider myself the best judge of what will make for my 
happiness.” 

“Well, I never !” cried the little woman, horrified. “What 
is the world coming to, I’d like to know, when children defy 
their own Mamas. Margy, I forbid you to marry this odjous, 
wicked, selfish, depraved, conceited w-r-r-etch ! I forbid it ; 
so there !” 

And the intrepid little woman spread wide her skirts and 
settled herself with a flounce, gazing across at the smiling 
Judge with an air of extreme satisfaction, as if she had 
settled once and for all Margaret’s aspirations. Margaret 
smiled and impulsively embraced her mother, who forth- 
with melted into tears again. 

“Oh, Margy, why can’t you be good and sweet, like you 
used, and obey your Mama, who loves you so dearly?” 
sobbed Mrs. Wainwright, who evidently had little faith in 
the efficacy of her firmly expressed command. “Mr. Carl- 
ton does love you so! And I just know he’ll be President 
some day, and Governor, and Senator, and all sorts of 
things. And wouldn’t you like to live at Washington again? 
And, oh, Margy, be mistress of the White House and take 
precedence over that odjous Admiral McMaster’s odjous 
wife, who had the impudence actually, George, to demand 
precedence of me! And my General standing next to the 
President! You see, Margy, if you marry Mr. Carlton — ” 


THE ROSE. 


19 


“Oh, Mama, do, do, do hush !” interrupted Margaret, im- 
patiently. 

“The very idea!’’ exclaimed Mrs. Wainwright, bridling 
indignantly. 

“This young man. Flora,” said the Judge, quietly; “who 
is he ?” 

“He calls himself Robert Felton — there’s his odious card; 
but goodness only knows zvhat his real name is,” cried the 
little woman, with scorn. “I don’t believe he’s got a name 
at all, so I don’t.” 

“Do not be absurd, Mama,” said Margaret. “Mr. Felton 
is a gentleman. Uncle — the son of Mr. James Felton, of 
New York City.” 

“The banker?” asked the Judge, with a start. 

“Do you know him, George?” cried Mrs. Wainwright, 
anxiously. 

“Yes,” replied the Judge, gravely. “I know the father 
well; an upright, honorable gentleman. As for the son — ” 
he hesitated, glancing at Margaret. 

“What about him, George?” cried the little woman, clasp- 
ing her plump little hands entreatingly. “Do, do speak. 
Brother.” 

“I’m afraid,” said the Judge, slowly, “he is hardly a fit 
associate for Margy.” 

“Oh, I knezv it!” cried Mrs. Wainwright, bouncing up 
and down in a paroxysm of mingled woe and glee. “I said 
so all along. A murderer! Oh, oh, oh, oh! I told you so, 
Margy, but you wouldn’t listen to me. Oh, the miserable, 
odjous, wicked, conceited w-r-r-etch !” 

“Hush, Mama,” said Margaret, in her low, clear tones. 
“Uncle George, you will gain nothing by this. Mr. Felton 
is a gentleman and my friend. Nothing that you can say 
will turn me against him. Now, do hush. Mama,” kissing 


20 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


that excited little woman, and barely nipping in the bud an 
indignant outburst on her part. ^‘It is all a mistake, anyway, 
on my blessed little Mama’s part, your Honor. I am not 
engaged to be married to anybody. Mama simply is hurt 
because I permit Mr. Felton to call here in Mr. Carlton’s 
absence. But Mr. Carlton trusts me,” she continued, with 
a heightened color, “and, besides, I don’t care ! Mr. Felton 
is my friend, as Mr. Carlton is my friend, and — and — other 
gentlemen who call from time to time.” 

Mrs. Wainwright nodded here with placid pride, and 
beamed across at the Judge. 

“The sweetest girl, George,” she murmured; “all the 
young men admire her!” 

“I honor you, Margy, for your loyalty to your friends,” 
said Judge Wainwright, heartily. “Still, my dear — ” 

“But I am in earnest, Uncle George,” interrupted Mar- 
garet, coloring, “when I say I shall permit no one to choose 
a husband for me. I shall choose for myself. I am no longer 
a child; I am able to judge for myself. Do not you think 
so, your Honor ?” 

She drew herself up and stood before him, demurely 
awaiting judgment. The Judge regarded her with grave 
approval. 

A beautiful girl was Margaret, and Judge Wainwright. 
though he never would own it, stood just a little in awe of 
pretty women. Tall and slenderly fashioned, with a su- 
perbly proportioned figure, a girl of nineteen — no 
more—she fairly dazzled the good Judge. Her hair was 
of a raven hue ; her eyes, as black as sloes, were large and 
lustrous, with long black lashes and prettily arching brows ; 
a Wainwright to the tips of her pretty fingers, the Judge 
vowed. Her face as a whole gave the impression of a high- 
strung, delicate nature, shy at once and imperious, loyal and 


THE ROSE. 


21 


tender. There was about the eyes and mouth a certain 
reflective gravity that was very charming. Her head set 
well upon a slender neck, was rather large, though this im- 
pression was doubtless due to the heavy black hair, which 
was coiled in masses at the back ; the brow was unusually 
high and broad ; there was a pretty color in her cheeks ; a 
delicate glow, like a rising blush perpetually trembling on 
the verge, but rarely spreading and never wholly vanishing. 
An emotional creature and graceful, full of fire, spirited, 
proud, but gentle, sweet and altogether womanly. 

She wore a very pretty, close-fitting gown of some light 
brown, shimmering material, profusely trimmed with lace, 
which fell around her little white hands and formed a kind 
of triple cape around her breast and shoulders ; rich, cream- 
colored lace, alternating with cunningly disposed bows and 
bands of ribbon. Her bearing, ordinarily somewhat timid, 
was challenging now ; her eyes were dancing. 

“Well, Your Honor?” she cried. 

The Judge’s expression was both grave and judicial. 

“Truly, I believe so, Margy,” he replied. 

“Now, Mama !” cried the girl, giving that smiling lady a 
loving squeeze. “Isn’t it absurd. Your Honor, ^ for this 
blessed little baby of a Mama to try to govern mef” 

“The very idea !” cried Mrs. Wainwright, sitting up very 
straight and gazing with great dignity across at the Judge. 

“Your mother, my dear, is older than you are—” began 
the Judge, when Mrs. Wainwright interposed with consid- 
erable haste: 

“Not so very much older. Brother, dear, said she, patting 
herself in various places, as if to assure herself of the fact. 
“You know, I was but seventeen when I married my Gen- 
eral and he fortv-eight (I was his ward, Margaret— he was 
my ’guardian, you know, George), and Margy was born 


22 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


when I was eighteen, and she is nineteen now, brother dear ; 
so you see, Fm just thirty-one!’' pursued the little woman, 
smoothing her handsome gown of gray satin with an air of 
serious candor that called up a smile on the Judge’s grave 
face. “Elizabeth came four years later at Governor’s Island, 
and Jennie was born away out in Arizona, fighting Indians ; 
and Alice came in Washington, and I was that angry ! — not 
being able to go out, and that odjous Admiral McMaster’s 
odjous wife going everywhere. Katy came seven years ago, 
with the War ; and then Laura was born in Havana. Now, 
I wonder,” said Mrs. Wainwright, thoughtfully rubbing her 
little nose, “if Laura is a Cuban, George, on that account? 
Do you know, I have often thought of that, Margy? It is 
very important, you know. Brother dear, because if she is 
a Cuban on account of being born in Havana, it makes her 
husband ineligible for the Presidency!” 

And Mrs. Wainwright lay back in her rocker, regarding 
the Judge with an air of grave anxiety. 

“No, I do not think so. Flora,” replied the Judge, laugh- 
ing softly. 

“I am so relieved to hear it!” cried Mrs. Wainwright, 
drawing a deep, deep breath to prove it. 

“So long as Laura’s husband is an American, Mama,” said 
Margaret, patting her mother’s rosy cheeks between her 
hands, “Laura may be a Hottentot for all folks care. So 
much for being a woman!” cried the spirited young crea- 
ture, tossing her pretty head rebelliously. 

“Well,” sighed her mother, “do you know, that worried 
me dreadfully, darling. I’ve often lain awake all night, 
thinking of that poor unfortunate baby, born away off there 
in Cuba, with no clothes (my things were all at Washing- 
ton, darling). In Havana it was where Mrs. Mowbray, 
General Mowbray’s wife — you remember, Margy? — was so 


THE ROSE. 


23 


horrid, always wearing things exactly like mine, copying me 
in everything — the horrid, mean, odjous thing! So extrav- 
agant she was, George. Dear, dear! Fve often wondered 
how poor General Mowbray managed with so extravagant 
a wife !” 

The children now came rushing in upon them, led by 
Katy, the tomboy, who threw her little jacket in one corner, 
her cap in another, and hurled herself shrieking upon the 
Judge, demanding a million kisses. This little madcap 
among them all resembled Margaret, with her raven locks, 
her coal-black eyes and sweet, dimpled cheeks; the others, 
from Elizabeth, a round-eyed prim little miss of sixteen, 
down to Laura, a tot of four or five, were, like their mother, 
fair and round and rosy; quiet and sedate, with big baby 
eyes and chubby cheeks. To see Mrs. Wainwright, with 
skirts spread wide and smiling, important air, shooing these 
little maidens into the sitting room adjoining, was to be 
irresistibly reminded of a fretful, pompous hen, marshalling 
her brood in masterly retreat from some forbidden garden. 
Katy clung to the Judge, and so escaped the general exodus. 


II. 


Evening had fallen now, for the days were at their 
shortest. It was Christmas eve. Winter had settled upon 
the land. Outside snow was falling, and in fitful flurries 
was hurling past the windows. 

The Wainwright cottage, among the largest in Westport, 
was a double affair, divided into two wings by a wide hall, 
which opened upon a veranda in front. To the right of this 
hall was the drawing-room, behind which the dining-room 
curved into a wing. To the left was the parlor, which was 
separated from the common sitting-room by heavy por- 
tieres. The drawing-room, just now was being prepared for 
the Christmas festivities, to which fact no doubt was due 
the overcrowded appearance of the parlor, in which the 
widow had received the Judge. There were so many huge 
chairs scattered about, so many large vases, stands, tables, 
pictures, sofas and ornamental bric-a-brac, that one involun- 
tarily wondered how the good lady managed to squeeze the 
great piano in ; but there it stood as large as life, occupying 
a corner of its own, opposite the open fireplace, before which 
Judge Wainwright sat, with madcap Katy on his knee. It 
was a pretty retreat, and one to which any girl would be 
proud to welcome her callers. Two heavily curtained win- 
dows opened upon the veranda, which extended along the 
entire front of the cottage. A large lamp hung in the center of 
the room, suspended by three chains from the ceiling, a 
handsome, old-fashioned, shaded affair, with a triple ring 
of tinkling glass pendants. Judge Wainwright rose with 


THE ROSE. 


25 


the lighting of the lamps and good-naturedly prepared to 
follow the others into the sitting-room, for well the gallant 
gentleman knew that from that hour, the parlor was sacred 
to the daughter of the house and her courtiers. 

“Uncle George,^’ said Margaret, placing herself before 
him, with her hands upon his shoulders. “Confess you 
think me a wicked, willful girl ?” 

“Wicked, Margaret, no! Willful, yes; but no more so 
than you have a right to be, being Queen of the household.” 

“Thank you. Your Honor,” replied Margaret, kissing him 
in her impulsive way. “Dear Uncle George, stay and talk 
to me ; I have so much to tell you.” 

“Gladly, Margy.” 

She drew him back into his chair before the glowing 
fire, kneeling down beside him. 

Mrs. Wainwright bustling in at this moment in search 
of her missing chick, paused as if struck by lightning, and 
for the moment remained rooted to the spot, gazing down 
at the pair, with her finger placed beside her little nose, in 
a highly sagacious manner; then, beckoning Katy, retreated 
with such extraordinary precaution that she still was walk- 
ing backwards when she reached the kitchen, where fat 
Dinah sat peeling potatoes for the evening meal. 

“Dear, good Uncle George,” murmured Margaret, press- 
ing his hand between her own. “Do forgive me for speak- 
ing to you so. I was excited and indignant with Mama.” 

“No doubt, my dear, your mother’s fears — which are 
perfectly natural, Margy, and laudable — have greatly mag- 
nified the degree of intimacy existing between you and 
young Felton,” said the Judge. “I hope so, Margaret, for, 
indeed, this youth is no fit associate for you.” 

“Why, Uncle?” asked Margaret; “but, no!” she added, 
quickly closing his mouth with one little white hand pressed 


26 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


softly to his lips. “Tell me nothing, dear. Ah, Uncle 
George,” continued Margaret with emotion. “How diffi- 
cult is a woman’s lot in this world? A constant battle is 
going on within us between the heart and the mind which 
men can never know! Here is a man whom the mind ap- 
proves, but toward whom the heart remains cold; another 
comes into our life whom the mind mistrusts, yet who curls 
himself around our very heart-strings. How can one recon- 
cile these differing feelings and still know happiness ? Shall 
the heart govern us in our choice, or the mind? Tell me, 
advise me !” cried Margaret in deepest agitation. 

“The mind, my dear ; follow the dictates of your mind, if 
you would find permanent happiness,” replied the Judge, 
earnestly. “That is why our intellect is given us, to control, 
to guide, and direct us here. Unless your mind unreservedly 
approves your heart’s choice, reject it, Margaret.” 

“Oh, that is easily said,” cried Margaret, in tragic tones. 

“My dear, it would be sheer madness to allow your heart 
to govern you wholly in a matter so very important. Pas- 
sion does not reason. It acts on impulse. The young, un- 
thinking girl, inexperienced in the ways of life, who rushes 
headlong into matrimony at the first impulse of passion, 
rarely finds even comparative happiness. This, Margaret, 
is brought home every day to one in my vocation. Tell me, 
dear, does not your mind wholly approve of Mr. Carlton?” 

“Yes, Uncle,” replied Margaret, miserably. 

“And your heart is cold to him? You do not love him?” 

“Oh, Uncle, I do not know. That is just it. I am not 
clear just what my feelings are!” 

“Look here, Margy, tell me all about it. Come, dear, 
trust me.” 

“I do. Uncle; oh, believe me, I do trust you wholly and 
entirely. Only I am not sure that I can tell you. It is all 


THE ROSE. 


27 


chaos. I scarcely know myself what is going on within my 
heart, only that it is a conflict which frightens me, because 
I am not — not good — not really good, you know, though I 
want to be, really and truly.’' 

‘'Tell me about it, Margy,” said the Judge, gently. “Try, 
at least, and, even if I cannot counsel you, the telling can- 
not but be beneficial.” 

“But where shall I begin. Your Honor?” 

“Begin at the beginning. You met Mr. Carlton — when?” 

“I met Edward four years ago for the first time,” replied 
Margaret in a low voice. She was sitting now close beside 
her uncle in her mother’s favorite rocker, rocking gently 
to and fro. “I liked him from the first because he is so — 
so sincere and gentle, and, oh! good; but I never thought 
of him as a possible suitor, mainly, I believe because he 
seemed immensely old to me, though he was but twenty- 
seven, Uncle. You see, I was only fifteen then. He was 
very kind to me. Of course, everybody was kind, but Ed- 
ward treated me differently — somehow, as if I were a grown 
woman, you know. Uncle, and his equal mentally. He 
would discuss things with me, and ask my opinion on 
weighty subjects, and the like. I confess I was immensely 
flattered, and I read things and studied* books, which I never 
would have peeped into but for a desire to talk intelligently 
to Edward.” 

“Sly dog!” chuckled the Judge, inaudibly, however. 

“In short. Uncle, Edward treated me like a woman; not 
like a child. Only,” said Margaret, dimpling suddenly, “he 
would call me Peggy, and I did so want to be called Mar- 
garet at that time. You see. Uncle, I had been rather a-a- 
tomboy. I’m afraid, and at fifteen one gets different notions, 
and so, in the first flush of my new-found dignity, I was 
for being very stiff and haughty, and, to begin with, desired 


28 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


everybody , to call me Margaret. But nobody will to this 
day, Uncle, except — except Mr. Felton,” added Margaret, 
blushing. 

‘‘Ah !” commented the Judge. 

“That is, of course, when he presumes to take a liberty,” 
resumed Margaret, looking haughty. “Nobody ever called 
me Peggy but Papa, until Mr. Carlton came. However, I 
forgave him because he was so good in other ways. We 
have been very friendly always. He came to see us often. 
Papa liked him immensely ; and Mama simply dotes on him. 
It was only a year ago that I learned his true feeling for me. 
He told me then that he loved me dearly. He said very 
frankly that he knew I did not return his love, but he hoped 
to win my regard ; and asked me to think of him sometimes, 
and to try to love him. Now, was not that odd of him, 
Uncle George? — and honorable? — and — and delightful?” 

“There can be no doubt about it, Margy,” replied the 
Judge, laughing softly; “it was all that.” 

“It was my first proposal. Uncle — for I think I may call 
it that, Your Honor? — and I was ever so pleased and proud 
and happy. Because, you know, Mr. Carlton is a very 
great man, a famous lawyer, an Assemblyman, and — and all 
sorts of things. Pm afraid I was very wicked after that and 
willful with him,” continued Margaret, demurely. “I teased 
him dreadfully, for I was vain of my power over him. He 
bore with all my whims like an angel — of course he would 
never have dared to scold me” said Margaret, sitting up 
very straight indeed, and looking big at the ornamental 
bronze clock upon the marble mantel. “At the same time, if 
he had scolded me, you know, I wouldn’t have minded,” she 
added, dimpling ; “but he never did, and I became positively 
horrid to him — a perfect tyrant, your Honor, striving to 
rouse him to the point of retaliation. He never lost patience 


THE ROSE. 


29 


with me, however. Only, sometimes he would look at me. 
Uncle — so — drawing her pretty brows into a straight line, 
and rolling her eyes so comically in an effort to look re- 
proachful at once and dignifiedly tolerant, that the Judge 
broke into a shout of laughter. “I can’t quite express it,” 
resumed Margaret, laughing and blushing, “but it was a 
look that made me shiver — not as being afraid of dear 
Edward, of course, Uncle George,” she said, looking big 
once more, and settling herself with a comfortable little shake 
that set all her lace ruffles fluttering, “but there was some- 
thing so delightful in his eyes at those times ! I can’t ex- 
plain just what it was, only I know I was always very good 
afterwards.” 

“You love Edward, Margy,” said the Judge, smiling. 
“Come, confess, you little rogue.” 

“No, Uncle; no, no,” cried Margaret, vehemently. “I 
thought I did, really and truly; and certainly if he had 
asked me then, I would have owned as much, and I believe 
I would have been entirely and completely happy. But last 
summer I went to the mountains with Mama, and there T 
met Mr. Felton.” 

“Well, Margy?” 

“That is all. Uncle George,” replied Margaret, sadly. 
“My feelings now are precisely as I described them to you 
in the beginning, when I spoke of woman’s difficult lot in 
life.” 

“You favor Mr. Felton in your heart, but you distrust 
him.” 

Margaret nodded. 

“And is your heart cold to Mr. Carlton now, Margy?” 

“I cannot say that. Uncle,” Margaret replied. “Tt seems 
to me that my regard for Mr. Carlton is the same as ever ; 
indeed, if anything, it is deeper, for I cannot overcome an 


30 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


uneasy feeling of having wronged him grievously, and this 
— but you can understand, Uncle? And yet, dear Uncle, 
Mr. Felton coming into my life has, it seems to me, changed 
its course completely. Before I knew him it was quiet, tran- 
quil, happy; now it is turbulent, uneasy, but intoxicating. 
With Mr. Felton I am all on fire. His presence intoxicates 
me. I feel unusually spirited, joyous, reckless almost, but 
above all, rebellious. It is only when he is away from my 
side that I distrust him, for, upon calmer reflection, I cannot 
but see that he arouses all that is bad and — and wicked in 
my nature.’’ 

‘‘And with Carlton, Margy?” 

“Oh, I can sit with him for hours, feeling quite con- 
tented, confiding, tender and happy. That is my position, 
Uncle, and that is why I say a woman’s lot is so hard. Oh, 
if I could but combine what I love in the one with what 
I adore in the other, I would be a supremely happy woman ! 
But as that is not possible, the question resolves itself into 
this. Shall I choose the man whom I esteem above all other 
men, and be content with a life of tranquil happiness by his 
side, or shall I, deeming the world well lost for a brief 
period of supremest bliss, choose him whom I love above 
all other men, and risk the future?” 

“I should think, Margy, that that question would be easy 
to answer,” said Judge Wainwright, deeply astonished at 
the depths in this girl’s nature so surprisingly revealed to 
him. 

“Oh, but it isn’t. Uncle,” cried Margaret, beating her 
breast in a passion of grief and woe and terror. “Oh, I 
know what cold reason would say ! But J care nothing for 
cold reason or colder logic! Oh, if you were but a woman. 
Uncle, you would understand I” 

“Perhaps I do understand, Margy,” said the judge, very 


THE ROSE. 


31 


softly. “I did not choose the single life, my dear. I had 
different aspirations once. Long ago I loved a woman, 
but, poor bashful idiot, I worshipped her from a distance 
and in deepest torture saw another man more practical 
carry her from before my very eyes. But perhaps my 
understanding is all the clearer on that account. I have 
preserved certain ideals, it may be, which otherwise might 
have been shattered. Margy, listen to me. You do not 
really love this man. Your heart, your tenderest, purest 
thoughts, belong to Carlton. This other simply has touched 
your imagination, not your heart — two widely different 
things, my love. If you were a girl now of fifteen, you 
would be lost, for at that age you would be all imagination, 
a wild, untamed, impulsive little creature, with a mind too 
small to control your feelings or guide your actions. This 
sort of thing takes possession of all women, at one time 
in their lives, and most men; fortunate those to whom it 
comes, as with you, after the mind has attained maturity. 
Your mind, Margy, is not a common one, nor are you of 
the common run of women. You not only feel intensely, 
as do most women, but you think deeply.” 

‘T do. Uncle ; oh, believe me, I do !” 

“That is clear enough, my dear. Few women in your 
place would have stopped to reason ; many would have 
yielded wholly to the mad infatuation which has taken 
hold on your mind, deliberately closing their eyes to the 
consequences. The truth is that you have depth of mind, 
but too much imagination. With all that is solid and serious 
in your mind, you love and esteem Carlton ; but your fancy 
is taken by the image of this man — a man of a character 
so foul that the mere mention of him is sacrilegious in 
your pure presence.” 

“Oh, Uncle!” cried Margaret, piteously. 


32 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“It is true,” cried the Judge. “This man, Margy, whom 
with all your good sense you insist on idealizing — this hero, 
before he had attained his nineteenth year — ” 

“Uncle George, I will hear nothing!” cried Margaret, ris- 
ing, very pale but determined; “not a word of Mr. Felton, 
if you love me.” 

“Ah !” cried the Judge, with a groan. “I well remember 
how fascinating the fellow is — the ideal hero, around whom 
young girls love to weave day dreams. Margy, you are 
playing with fire — deliberately and willfully. Do throw 
off this mad whim, and let me tell you this young man’s 
history. It will cure you, if anything on earth can.” 

“No, Uncle, not a word,” and Margaret, dimpling like 
a naughty child, placed her hands over her. ears, shaking 
her head vehemently. 

“Margy, do not be so foolish. You are a woman of depth 
and understanding. In your heart and soul, you know 
that you love Edward, yet you cherish this illusion, nurse 
it, brood upon it, from day to day. It is a terrible risk. 
Margy, that you are taking. The strongest woman can- 
not long resist such fancies ; they grow by what they 
feed on, until they become stronger than the mind that 
harbors them ; and then — Ah, my dear ! in my vocation one 
experiences many sad and solemn things; the sum and 
substance of all of which have taught me that most of 
the ills of life can be averted by thought properly con- 
trolled and directed. Every moment that you cherish such 
thoughts as now dwell in your mind, my dear, you ai\‘ 
undermining your character — a character which, if prop- 
erly developed, would well nigh be sublime.” 

“It is my happiness. Uncle !” cried the girl. 

“It is your misery, I say. If Felton were all that a young 
man should be in character, and your sentiments divided 


THE ROSE. 


33 


as now, I should still counsel you to choose Mr. Carlton; 
because I know you, Margy, and know that, after the 
first delirium of passion had worn away, you would be 
unhappy with a husband of a personality so colorless; but, 
being what he is, I shall do all in my power to save you. 
Come, dear, let me tell you what I know of Felton,” he 
added, coaxingly. 

“I will not listen,” cried Margaret, starting up once 
more, with her hands to her ears. 

“You shall listen,” said the Judge, sternly. 

“I will not — will not — will not. So there!” and Mar- 
garet stamped her foot with violence ; then step by step re- 
treated toward the sitting-room. 

“Very well.” said Judge Wainwright, coldly; “but you 
shall never marry the fellow, I swear.” 

“Forgive me. Uncle,” sobbed Margaret, coming forward 
again and kneeling down by his side; “do forgive me, 
dear, dear Uncle George ; but I cannot bear it. I can’t, oh, I 
cannot bear it,” she sobbed with awful intensity. 

“There, there, child,” said the Judge, with emotion ; “don’t 
take it so hard, my dear. You are too imaginative ! Great 
thunder !” he continued, usurping his brother’s favorite ex- 
pletive, as he did in all moments of excitement and 
emotion. “A woman to be happy should be devoid of all 
mind, and, like a cow, live in placid contentment wherever 
she is placed. A thinking woman cannot be happy until 
a new race of men is born which shall be as far above her 
thinking mind as the average specimen is now above the 
stolid woman of a couple of generations ago. For it does 
seem that, no matter how far you advance mentally, you 
must worship some infernal idiot. Do you not see, Margy, 
that Carlton is the one man in the world for you? A man 
of powerful personality, you would find reflected in him 


34 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


all the aspirations of your mind. He would be lover, hus- 
band, slave, and master in one; gentle and loving always, 
3^et controlling with a firm hand that wayward spirit of 
yours. You must marry a man who is your mental supe- 
rior ; else you will live to despise your husband.” 

“Oh, how weak I am!” murmured Margaret. “I recog- 
nize the truth of all you say, dear Uncle ; believe me, I do ; 
but — ^but — oh, if Edward were only here!” she burst out 
suddenly. 

“Ah, that is it!” cried the Judge; “he’s been away this 
month past, and Felton, in his absence, has been — humph ! 
He is coming home for the holidays, I believe ?” 

“Yes,” cried Margaret, radiantly; “we are expecting him 
any time now.” 

She dried her eyes, and, rising, threw her arms around 
the neck of the good old Judge, and kissed him many times. 

“Was she beautiful. Your Honor?” she asked, archly 
smiling. 

The Judge, astounded by this sudden change from tears 
to laughter, gazed around the room in deep perplexity. 

“Who, Margy?” he asked, tugging at his great mustache. 

“The girl you loved, dear ?” whispered Margaret, tenderly. 
“Oh !” 

The Judge colored deeply and cleared his throat with 
extraordinary vehemence. 

“Was she. Your Honor? And you, poor dear, were bash- 
ful. Oh, oh, oh, oh!” cried Margaret, hugging him and 
laughing in mad abandon. 

The poor Judge looked confounded. He had in an emo- 
tional moment betrayed the secret of his heart, and here 
this wicked girl was making merry over it. 

“That is hardly fair, Margy,” he said, in deep embarrass- 
ment. 


THE ROSE. 


35 


“I’ll never, never, never tell any one the longest day I 
live. Your Honor,” vowed Margaret, coaxingly. “Cross my 
heart. Uncle. Hope I may die, if I so much as open my 
lips about her. Who was she, dear? Was she pretty — very, 
very pretty? As pretty as your own loving niece. Your 
Honor ? Do, do tell me about her. Uncle.” 

But fortunately the bell rang at this moment, and Mar- 
garet arose with a heightened color. 

“Who can it be?” she said, glancing at a small jeweled 
watch which she carried impaled upon her bosom. “It is 
barely six o’clock.” 

“Suppose we go and see?” suggested the Judge, greatly 
relieved by the opportune arrival. 

“Julia is going — no, it is Mama.” 

From the hall without came the sound of rapid footsteps, 
intermingled with much stealthy whispering and giggling. 
The door was opened, and then came a scream, which was 
followed by a wild chorus of screams, as the little ones, fol- 
lowing in the wake of their mother, rushed with a tremen- 
dous racket to greet the visitor. 

Margaret, encountering the Judge’s smiling glance, 
blushed deeply and rushed to the mirror. 

“It is — it is Mr. Carlton — Edward,” she whispered, agitat- 
edly ; with one hand stilling her fluttering heart, and with the 
other patting various saucily protruding ribbons into place. 

And the next moment he came in, with Laura perched on 
one arm, and Katy triumphantly bestriding his shoulders. 
Mrs. Wainwright followed, clinging in great glee to one 
disengaged hand, and Elizabeth, Jennie and Alice brought 
up the rear, all in dutiful imitation of Mama, hanging to 
his coat-tails. 

“Well,” said the newcomer, good-humoredly depositing 
his smaller charges; “I haven’t missed any, have I?” 


36 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“He just, this moment came,” cried Mrs. Wainwright., 
clapping her hands delightedly. “Now, Edward, take off 
your heavy coat, there’s a dear, and warm yourself.” 

“I saw him first-off, after Mama,” declared Katy, jeal- 
ously clinging to his coat-tail, which she had wrested from 
her sisters. 

The others were too meek to dispute with this fiery little 
maiden, and so she remained in triumphant possession, and 
haughtily advanced with her captive as he went forward to 
greet the Judge and Margaret. 

“Ah, Judge,” said Mr. Carlton, genially, “down for the 
holidays ?” 

“Yes,” replied the Judge, shaking hands heartily; “and 
you?” 

“Yes; Legislature adjourned until the sixth,” replied Mr. 
Carlton, his glowing eyes fixed upon Margaret, who stood 
with blushing cheeks, awaiting his approach. 

“Peggy!” he said, in a deep, tender voice that thrilled 
Margaret through and through. “Dear little Peggy.” 

She dimpled at this and came forward, timidly giving him 
both her hands. He pressed them ardently, coloring to the 
roots of his hair as he met her lustrous eyes. They were 
kind and sweet in their expression as they dwelled on him. 
The Judge, watching the meeting of the lovers, smiled to 
himself and rubbed his hands together in great good humor. 
Mrs. Wainwright looking on, gave utterance to a little crow 
of delight and nudged the Judge, closing both eyes tightly 
in a desperate effort to wink one in a knowing way; and 
altogether betrayed so much precaution in endeavoring to 
convey a rapturous understanding that she had all the chil- 
dren craning their necks at their blushing sister. 

“Cold out. Judge,” said Mr. Carlton, half turning to the 
Judge, and flashing him a momentary glance, but retaining 


THE ROSE. 


37 


one of Margaret’s hands, which he caressed gently between 
his own. “Snowing like blazes.’’ 

“Snowing like blazes !’’ screamed Katy ; and instantly 
went dancing away, followed by Laura and Alice, all sing- 
ing at the top of their voices, “Snowing like blazes! snow- 
ing like blazes!’’ 

Mr. Carlton gazed in consternation after the shrieking 
trio; then looked apologetically at Margaret. He was a 
vigorous young man, and rather given to explosive expres- 
sion — a habit which Margaret pretended to deplore, but 
secretly she was proud of it and him. 

“Now, see what you’ve done, sir,” she said accusingly, 
though her eyes were dancing. 

“Katydid !” cried Mr. Carlton, dashing after the mad- 
caps, “quit it. Here, I’ll give you a quarter all around if 
you’ll forget it.” 

Katydid looked cunning; with the instincts of her sex, 
she was disposed to make a bargain. 

“Not for less ’n two pennies, Yedward!” she said, firmly. 

“Oh, very well,” replied Yedward, diving into his pocket 
with the air of a much-abused young man. 

“For shame, Katy !” cried Mrs. Wainwright, smiling with 
conscious pride at the Judge, however. “Shame on you.” 

But Katy would have her bond. Firmly she stood, with 
her little hand held out ; and pocketed her plunder under the 
firm conviction that she had made a shrewd bargain. Laura 
and Alice ran away at once to hide their store ; but Katy held 
her ground, stationing herself behind her idol to await 
further developments. 

“Good Christmas weather, Judge, don’t you think?” re- 
sumed Mr. Carlton, striving earnestly to regain possession 
of Margaret’s hand, and succeeding, though she put it be- 
hind her and shook her head in vehement disapproval, dim- 


38 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


pling all the time. This young man knew exactly what he 
wanted, and he calmly persevered until Margaret, in despair 
of moving him, surrendered her little hand into his keeping. 

Katy pondered Yedward’s words thoughtfully, but con- 
cluded, after a moment of doubt and indecision, that there 
was nothing striking or original in them. 

Judge Wainwright concurred heartily, and, before long, 
they were seated around the fire, all of them — Mr. Carlton 
maneuvering so skilfully throughout that he had Margaret 
sitting close beside him without having once released the 
fluttering little hand which he held captive. 

They talked politics, of course, Mr. Carlton and the Judge, 
Mrs. Wainwright chattering with great volubility between 
times of the doings and happenings among mutual 
friends at Westport and elsewhere. Margaret said nothing, 
but sat with downcast eyes beside her lover, admiring him 
hugely all the time, though only with stolen glances. She 
thought not of Felton now. Her feeling for Edward, pres- 
ent always, but quiescent owing to his prolonged absence, 
and the constant presence of that other disturbing emotion, 
was once more in the ascendant. His voice thrilled her 
deliciously. It was a leonine voice, the voice of an orator, 
deep, sonorous, vibrating, the kind of voice that women 
love in men, which can roll like crashing thunder in time 
of strife, but in the hour of love can soften to tenderest 
music. 

The man himself was far from handsome. He was some- 
what above the medium height — thick, burly, with enor- 
mous shoulders and a vast chest; his hands were large, his 
limbs sinewy, his neck short and thick, his head of extraor- 
dinary size, was thickly thatched. The face was smooth- 
shaven, and of the color of old bronze. A strong face, ex- 
pressing unlimited reserve power and a poise unusual in so 


THE ROSE. 


39 


young a man. The chin was aggressive in the extreme ; the 
jaws, sharply outlined, came around with a decided curve, 
and met with a clash, so to speak, so very firmly did they 
join. The mouth was sweet in repose, with full, beautifully 
curved lips. The upper lip was long and flexible, sheltering 
by a trifle the one below, which seemed perpetually trem- 
bling on the verge of a smile. The nose was big and unre- 
servedly ugly ; the cheeks were thin, but the brow above was 
strikingly handsome, and the eyes looking out from be- 
neath the bushiest of black brows, sparkled like jewels in 
their cavernous depths. The hair, black and coarse, was 
rather long; parted on the extreme left and carried sheer 
across the skull in a vast arch, which in a way accentuated 
the enormous breadth of the brow. Margaret never saw 
that rebellious shock of hair without experiencing an in- 
tense desire to attack it with brush and comb. There was 
no doubt about it — Mr. Carlton was ugly, strikingly ugly. 
He would repel a woman at first glance, but, looking at 
him closely, observing his animated play of feature as he 
talked, listening to the sonorous beauty of his voice, it 
would not be difficult to believe that this man could inspire 
a passion more intense than that which falls to the lot of 
the average man. 

Margaret, sitting there by his side, thrilling beneath his 
beautiful voice, vowed herself to him over and over again. 
She looked down at his big, tender hands, in which he held 
hers captive, caressing it with a touch as gentle as a 
mother’s, and felt so tumultuous a passion rising in her 
bosom that she had perforce to rise lest she burst into tears. 
Mr. Carlton looked up, startled; the Judge ceased speaking 
for the moment. 

“Mama,” said Margaret, quivering but dimpling prettily, 
“we are forgetting our guests, I think. A cup of tea — ” 


40 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“To be sure/’ cried Mrs. Wainwright. “Tea is ready, T 
am sure. Come, my dears.” 

“Good!” cried Mr. Carlton. “I’m as hungry as a bear 
with a sore toe.” 

Katydid, who all this time had lain in wait, pounced upon 
this tidbit with a shriek of delight. 

“Hungry as a bear with a sore toe I Hungry as a bear 
with a sore toe!” she screamed, dancing away like mad; 
but paused suddenly and confronted the frantic Mr. Carl- 
ton, whom she fixed with a solemn gaze. 

“Yedward,” said Katydid, severely. “I don’t believe a 
bear what’s got a sore toe is any hungrier than a bear what 
hasn’t got a sore toe, I don’t.” 

“Right, Katydid; right as a trivet,” confessed the joker, 
meekly, and coaxingly profYered a quarter. Katydid eyed 
the money disdainfully. 

“I’m surprised at you, Yedward,” she said, and, turning 
up her little nose a prodigious height, she strutted haughtily 
from the room. 

The Judge roared with laughter. 

“Margaret, out and out !” exclaimed the admiring mother. 

“Mama, I’m surprised at you,” said Margaret, and, turn- 
ing up her nose in precisely the same way, she followed in 
the wake of her little sister with the same haughty de- 
meanor, but with an infinite grace of movement of which 
the smaller maiden never dreamed. 

Mr. Carlton dashed after her, and the laughing Judge, 
escorting his sister, sedately brought up the rear. 


III. 


“Did you write to Santa Claus, Katydid?” asked Yed- 
ward, gazing solemnly across at the little maid, indus- 
triously munching cake. 

“Didn’t,” replied Katy, briefly. 

“I didi, Yedward,” cried Alice. 

“Me, too, Yedward!” shrieked Laura. “Mama wroted 
for me.” 

“Why, this will never do. Katydid,” said Yedward, in 
a tone of grave concern. 

“Don’t believe in Santa Claus,” said Katydid. “ ’Sides, 
he can’t get down our chimbly. He’d stick ; I tried it.” 

“Goodness gracious, Katy!” cried Mrs. Wainwright, 
aghast. 

“He corned down last Christmas,” cried Laura, with 
heat. 

Katydid fixed her with a glance of scorn. 

“Little girls should be seen and not heard,” she said, 
severely. 

Judge Wainwright roared with laughter; but Yedward 
remained grave. 

“Katydid, I never would have believed it of you,” said 
Yedward, sorrowfully. “No Santa Claus! Why, he is a 
personal friend of mine !” 

Katydid’s rosy mouth quivered. She was by no means 
sure of her position on this momentous question. Be- 
sides she had so set her heart on a sled and a pair of 
skates ! 


42 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“Never mind,” said Yedward, seeing that the tears 
were very near now. “Never mind, Katydid, he’ll keep 
yon in mind, never fear.” 

Katydid looked extremely doubtful about it, but said 
nothing, deeming it the wiser course in case a mythical 
Santa Claus should be lurking about. 

“I’m going to hang up my stocking!” she announced 
presently, in decided tones. 

Which certainly was a concession to the popular 
faith, though Katydid would not have acknowledged it 
as such. She smiled brightly across at Yedward, feeling 
somehow vastly relieved on the question of the sled and 
skates. It had been a load on her mind, which was 
happily banished. 

Tea over, they repaired in a body to the sitting-room, 
where the little ones engaged in various quiet games, the 
while their mother chatted with the Judge. Margaret 
rose presently and stole into the parlor, casting a be- 
witching glance over her shoulder at Mr. Carlton, who 
without an instant’s loss of time rose and followed his 
queen. 

They walked about for a time quite silent, hand in 
hand, pausing now and then to examine a picture, a book, 
or an etching of which a great profusion were strewn 
about in odd corners. They were very happy. Some- 
times their eyes met and for long moments they for- 
got all the world in silent contemplation. 

“Peggy/’ said Mr. Carlton, pausing presently beside 
the open fireplace. “I’ve brought you a little Christ- 
mas gift.” 

“What is it, Edward?” asked Margaret, inclining 
gently toward him with her hands pressing upon his 
shoulder. 


THE ROSE. 


43 


From an inner pocket Edward brought forth a small 
velvet case, which he opened with a touch, revealing a 
diamond sunburst. Margaret uttered a little cry of won- 
der and delight. 

'‘Oh, Edward, how beautiful!” she cried. “And is it 
for me? Oh, I must show it to Mama; may I?” 

“Not now, Peggy. Plenty of time to-morrow.” 

Margaret ran to the mirror, and with much frowning 
seriousness examined the brilliant ornament from var- 
ious aspects. Edward looked on in smiling admiration. 

“Pm afraid, Edward,” said Margaret. “Fm afraid you 
are becoming extravagant, sir. You really should not 
buy such expensive presents for me ; but, oh 1 it’s too 
beautiful for anything; and I do so love diamonds and 
— and all sorts of pretty things that cost lots of money; 
don’t you? But, indeed, Edward, you should not have 
bought it I I am very, very angry.” 

And to prove it she drew him down beside her on 
the sofa, and gave him both her hands to hold. 

“Are you getting rich, Edward?” she asked with de- 
light. “I’m so glad 1 And, indeed, who deserves it 
better I’d like to know? You work so hard and study 
so much, and are so earnest always and energetic! You 
are getting to be quite an important young man, aren’t 
you, Edward?” 

“I can see ahead, Peggy,” replied Edward. “It has 
been a hard struggle little girl, but now I’ve got the 
brush cleared and may claim a right of way. That little 
jewel, Peggy, represents but a part of a retainer paid to 
me this very day.” 

“Oh !” said Margaret, opening wide her eyes. “And 
what is a retainer, Edward?” 

“A retainer? Well, suppose a large corporation, a 


44 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


railroad, say, wished to engage my valuable services as 
a lawyer. And supposing that my fee was ten million 
dollars — 

“Goodness me !” 

“ — They would hand me a check for a million in ad- 
vance as a retainer — to retain my distinguished services, 
you understand? — bind me hand and foot to keep me 
from going over to the enemy. Well, that, Peggy, is a 
retainer.” 

“Dear me,” said Peggy, innocently. “And did they 
pay you a million dollars to-day, Edward?” 

“Well, hardly, Peggy,” replied Edward, laughing 
softly. 

“I think retainers are nice,” announced Peggy, settling 
herself comfortably. “Don’t you, Edward?” 

“Yesi, indeed,” replied Edward, whose arm gradually 
was stealing around the slender waist. “I spent over 
an hour in Tiffany’s, Peggy. I had made up my mind 
to get a ring, but upon reflection I didn’t. I thought — do 
you know what I thought, Peggy?” 

“No, Edward, I can’t imagine,” replied Peggy, looking 
innocently unconscious of the encroaching arm. 

“I thought you might think me too presumptuous, 
Peggy. I thought that first I must win this little hand 
for my very own — mine to love and cherish forever and 
ever, darling.” 

Blushing, Margaret looked away, striving wdth 
trembling fingers to unloose the hand which clasped her 
so tenderly. The encroaching arm could encroach no 
more. The slender form inclined more and more toward 
him. How strong he was! How tender in his mighty 
strength ! 

“Peggy, you know what I am going to say, do you not, 


THE ROSE. 


45 


my love? You have known for years how dear to me 
you are. I have waited patiently this long time, but 
now I can wait no more.” 

The voice of the lion was hushed. From far away 
through a vista of enchanting dreams came the sound 
which fell like sweetest music on the ear of the enrap- 
tured girl. The fluttering little hands were firmly clasped. 
Dear heart ! how Margaret trembled ! 

“Tell me, sweet,” said Edward bending low. “One 
word, Peggy, whisper it!” 

“Love!” breathed Peggy all afire with passion. “Oh, 
Edward, is it love? For me?” 

“How well you know it, dear! And for me, Peggy?” 

Margaret regarded him in deep emotion. Her parted 
lips shown scarlet against a background of purest pearl. 
Blushing now, now paling, her bosom rising and falling 
stormily, she gazed into his eyes with a look so tender, so 
proud, and yet submissive that Edward was deeply 
moved. Still he waited, smiling, for the answer. 

“Dear Edward — ” began Margaret, then paused with 
a start. 

From without came a sudden deep hum — a whirr, fol- 
lowed by the rapid chug-chugging of a giant motor brought 
to a sudden standstill at the door. 

Starting from Edward’s relaxing arms, Margaret hast- 
ened to the window. 

“What is it, Peggy?” asked Edward, following. 

She turned to him smiling a little, but trembling as 
from hidden emotion. 

“Another visitor, I suppose, Edward,” she said. “Per- 
haps it is Mr. Felton.” 

She looked at him strangely, challengingly. He 
frowned, but said nothing. A pause. A step came now. 


46 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


quick, decided, a step she knew, crossing the broad ver- 
andah. 

“Peggy,” said Edward in deep voice. “You have not 
yet answered me, dear.” 

“Oh !” Peggy was listening with head inclined toward 
the window. There came a ring. She turned to Edward 
with dancing eyes, smiling archly. 

“It is Mr. Felton,” she said. 

“Answer me, Peggy.” 

She gave him the same strange glance with which before 
she had regarded him. 

“Not now, Edward,” she said. She came toward him 
quickly, noting his look of sadness and dejection. “Ed- 
ward, dear Edward,” she said, entreatingly. “Give me 
until to-morrow, will you, dear Edward? Just one little 
day?” she said entreatingly. 

“Until to-morrow, dear Peggy!” replied Edward, cap- 
turing and kissing her hands. “I have waited four years, 
and surely can wait one day longer.” 

“Thank you, Edward,” said Margaret, softly. She 
came close up to him, placing her hands upon his breast. 
Her eyes, looking into his, shone sweet with promise. 
“To-morrow is Christmas, you know, and — and — ^you — 
haven’t — received — your Christmas gift — ^yet.” 

And then — and then — before Edward quite realized his 
great good fortune, her arms were around his neck, and 
she had kissed him full upon the lips. 

“Peggy!” he cried, throwing out his arms to clasp 
her to his heart. 

But she was gone. Across the room she stood in a 
corner, hiding her shamed face behind the heavy draper- 
ies. In one moment Edw'ard was by her side. 

“Peggy,” he said, softly kissing the hand which she 


THE ROSE. 


47 


relinquished to him, still concealing her face from his 
eyes. “Dear Peggy, you are mine now forever and ever. 
Look at me, sweet.” 

“I can’t,” sobbed Margaret, “please don’t ask me. 
You’ll think me wicked and — and forward, I know; but 
— but,” she concluded, desperately. “I always wanted 
to do it.” 

“Peggy, dearest Peggy, darling Peggy, let me — ” 

“Please, please, please be good, Edward,” she cried, 
eluding him swiftly. Already she was laughing, though 
a tear still trembled upon her long lashes. “I said to- 
morrow — not until to-morrow, Edward.” 

A knock. Margaret went to the door. 

“Mr. Felton has come, Margy,” said Elizabeth, 
sedately. “Shall I show him in?” 

“Yes, dear!” 

The next moment he came in — a tall, slender youth, in a 
heavy ulster, which reached to his heels. He divested him- 
self of this with one quick movement, and stood forth in 
evening clothes of the conventional cut, contrasting sharply 
with Edward in this respect, for that young gentleman, as 
became a rising young statesman, wore the frock coat and 
dignified cravat belonging to his order. The newcomer was 
an exceedingly handsome man, and he bore himself with the 
ease and grace of a well-bred, cultured gentleman. He met 
Edward’s dark glance with a stare of unqualified insolence, 
and nodded slightly in answer to his curt greeting. Mar- 
garet met him with every outward manifestation of inward 
pleasure, greeting him in melting tones, and relieving him 
of his hat and coat with her own fair hands. 

“Cold I” he said, briefly, addressing Edward, by whom he 
ranged himself with his back to the fire. 

“Yes,” replied Edward, with equal curtness. 


48 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


‘‘Legislature adjourned?” 

“Yes.” 

“Humph !” 

A pause. The young men stared stolidly at Margaret, 
who, at the other end of the room, was busily engaged in 
storing the newcomer’s heavy ulster. 

“Holidays only, I suppose ?” 

“Of course.” 

A pause. 

“Still fishing?” queried Edward, politely. 

“Yes.” 

“Ah !” 

“But not for fish.” 

“Ah ! Any luck ?” asked Edward, swallowing hard. 

“So-so. Got a bite,” replied Eelton, and glanced at Mar- 
garet with a laugh. 

He was perfectly cool. Edward, on the other hand, was 
raging. Eortunately, Margaret joined them at this moment. 
She saw at one glance how matters stood between them. 

“Won’t you sit down, Mr. Felton?” she said, sweetly smil- 
ing. “Mr. Carlton, please!” 

“Thanks!” growled Eiward. “I prefer to stand.” 

“So do I,” said Felton. 

“Please, gentlemen !” cried Margaret, piteously. “You 
obstruct the fire,” she added, shivering prettily. “Mr. Carl- 
ton, do be good ; Mr. Felton, I insist.” 

Such an appeal was not to be resisted. So they sat down, 
one on each side of the fireplace, with Margaret between 
them. Margaret chatted pleasantly of various things of 
local interest, directing most of her talk to Mr. Carlton, who 
had been away for some time, but appealing to Mr. Felton 
every now and then for corroboration. The newcomer en- 
tered into her spirit with animation. Mr. Carlton sat glow- 


THE ROSE. 


49 


ering” ; but, after a time, arose and again stationed himself 
with his broad back to the fire, looking down at Margaret 
with a softening expression. It had occurred to him that 
he was playing an ungracious part after Peggy’s great kind- 
ness to him, and now, to rectify his error and show his 
gratitude, he went to the other extreme, resolving to clear 
out and leave her alone with the man he detested, thus 
showing at once his trust in her and his contempt of Felton, 
He glanced at his watch. 

“It’s after nine,” he said. “I’ll have to go, I guess.” 

“Why, it is early yet,” cried Margaret, rising. “Surely, 
Mr. Carlton, you do not have to go at this hour !” 

She looked at him beseechingly, earnestly, imploring him 
to stay. 

“I haven’t seen mother yet,” he replied resolutely. “I’ll 
just go in and bid good-night to Mrs. Wainwright and the 
Judge. ’Night,” he added curtly, nodding to Felton, who 
replied with equal brevity. 

Margaret accompanied him to the door. 

“Oh, why could you not stay, Edward dear?” she said, 
reproachfully. “Good-by,” she added, giving him a kind 
glance. 

“Good-by, darling Peggy.” 

The open door now screened them from the intruder. He 
raised the little hand to his lips, and covered it with kisses. 

“Oh !” breathed Margaret, glancing fearfully around-; but 
she gave his hand a tender squeeze, and gently closed th^door. 

Margaret returned into the room. Felton had risen and 
stood with his back to the fire. He advanced a step to meet 
Margaret’s approach, and seized her hands. 

“Let me look at you !” he exclaimed. “I have not seen 
you yet.” 

“Really, Mr. Felton,” said Margaret, dimpling demurely. 


50 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


She tried to withdraw her hands, but he held them firmly, 
and thus they stood for some moments regarding each other. 
His glance was rapturous, passionate, glowing. Margaret’s 
demurely conscious, but not at all responsive. Edward had 
returned to her, and once more reigned supreme. 

Now, Margaret was not playing at cross-purposes. She 
was an honest girl, deliciously conscious, no doubt, of the 
admiration which she excited, and swayed by alternate tem- 
pests of passion, but honestly seeking the truth, earnestly 
wishing to do what was right. She had been in doubt, but 
doubted now no more. With her heart beating all for Ed- 
ward, she yet had closed her lips at sound of Eelton’s com- 
ing. In this she acted upon impulse purely. She wished to 
make sure of herself. Such was, at least, her primary 
motive, though, no doubt, there was intermingled with this 
that girlish love of danger which the Judge had shrewdly 
noted. She was fond of playing with fire. So she had ad- 
ventured, relying upon Edward’s restraining presence. Ed- 
ward was gone now, but she felt strong in her love for 
him. Alas ! Margaret did not know her weakness. 

The young man’s impassioned gaze enveloped her like 
a flame. Her eyes fell away, but returned once more to his. 
She felt vaguely uneasy and afraid. She drew away from 
him, but Felton held her eyes. His glance seemed to set her 
afire. She blushed and blushed, one hot wave succeeding 
another in rapid succession. Her eyes shone with new 
lustre. She met his glance fair and full, without wavering. 
The shy, timid rapture with which Edward had inspired her 
was an emotion far removed from the strange passion she 
felt welling in her now. How handsome he was — how god- 
like, with his golden locks and pale, high-bred face, every 
feature of which seemed modeled by a master hand, so ex- 
quisitely was each proportioned to the other and the whole ! 


THE ROSE. 


51 


His eyes were large, with long, dark lashes, a woman’s eye 
in beauty and expression— soft, limpid, of infinite depth and 
sweetness. The brow was good ; the chin betrayed no weak- 
ness. The mouth was beautiful in repose, with lips as rosy 
as a girl s, but around them appeared, when he smiled, a 
kind of withered look. In stature he was uncommonly tall, 
and his figure matched the head in beauty of proportion. 
Surely, surely this man could not be bad ! Margaret sighed, 
and to her quickened senses the sound seemed fraught with 
a quality of eloquence odorous of passion. 

“Oh, beautiful, beautiful !” said Felton, and turned away 
abruptly. “I’m going away,” he said. 

“Oh !” cried Margaret, faintly. She felt herself growing 
pale. Her heart beat tumultuously. She followed him and 
placed one hand upon his arm. “Why?” 

“I must go,” said Felton, violently. “I can’t stay any 
longer. I can’t bear to see you every day and know that 
you belong to another. It would drive me mad. Margaret, 
it is not true!” he cried. “Tell me, dear, it is not true?” 

His tragic sorrow touched a responsive chord in Mar- 
garet’s breast. An emotion of tenderness, a feeling born of 
pity and remorse welled up in her bosom. She tried to 
quell it, but it would not down. Felton watched her at- 
tentively. He had noticed the change in her this night; 
had marked Carlton’s calm air of confidence. Long ago 
Mrs. Wainwright, in her efforts to discourage his visits, 
had given him to understand that Margaret was engaged 
to Carlton ; Margaret had neither affirmed nor denied it, but 
she had encouraged his visits, and until to-night had given 
every evidence of requiting his passion. 

“It is not true, Margaret?” he said, eagerly. 

“What is not true?” she asked, confusedly. 

“That you belong to another — love another ?” 


52 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


Margaret did not reply, but stood regarding him in an 
agony of doubt and indecision. He leaned towards her, 
with hands stretched out, and his heavenly eyes bent in 
passionate entreaty upon her face. What was this terrible 
pain around her heart, swelling it almost to bursting? 

“Tell me, Margaret,” the young man pleaded. “Do you 
love another?” 

“Why do you ask?” gasped Margaret. 

“Because I love you,” he cried, throwing himself at her 
feet, and covering her hands with kisses; “because I adore 
the very ground you walk on. I cannot live without you, 
Margaret ! I cannot bear to think of you in another’s arms ! 
I should die, for my love is stronger than my life.” 

Margaret gazed down at him through a blur of tears 
Her bosom rose and fell in stormy emotion. All the roman- 
tic notions of her childhood returned in force to her mind. 
All the cherished feelings of girlhood’s happiest hour were 
revived, and he, the godlike hero, kneeling at her feet dying 
for love of her satisfied them every one. 

“Margaret, look at me ; speak to me,” implored the love- 
lorn one. “Tell me, do you belong to another?” 

“No,” breathed Margaret. 

“You are free !” he cried, starting up and drawing hei 
towards him. “I may tell you of my love?” 

“No, no,” cried Margaret, drawing away from him. 
“No, no, no, no !” 

“I must tell it, Margaret. I cannot longer remain silent. 
Be mine! Love me, darling. Come!” He held out his 
arms ; but Margaret drew back, blushing with shame as she 
thought of how she had lain but a brief hour before in the 
arms of Edward. 

“Margaret!” cried Felton, following her up and capturing 
her hands. “Don’t you love me a little?” 


THE ROSE. 


53 


“I — I am not sure,” gasped Margaret. 

“Look at me !” She was in his arms now ; her face was 
close to his. “Look into my eyes, darling. Now, don’t 
you love me a little ?” 

“Yes,” breathed Margaret. 

“And will you be mine, Margaret? Will you marry me?” 

— I don’t know. Oh, what am I saying? No, no! 
Please let me go !” 

“Margaret, you love me ! You have said so ; you must 
marry me. Come, dear, let us go away together — to-night — 
this minute 1” 

Margaret shook her head vehemently, but she smiled very 
brightly into his eyes. Strangely enough, this proposal did 
not surprise her. It was fully in keeping with her romantic 
conception of him ; it chimed so completely into her present 
mood of mind that it seemed to be the most natural thing 
in the world. It was so dear of him to do exactly what was 
expected of him ! 

He pleaded earnestly with her. He advanced a thousand 
ingenious reasons why she should flee with him. Margaret 
inclined her head to listen, smiling like one tasting of for- 
bidden fruit, but she continued to shake her head. Felton 
redoubled his efforts. He knew the girl’s impressionable 
mind ; for weeks past he had played upon her innocent emo- 
tions, almost to Margaret’s undoing, and certainly to his 
own. He feared that if once more she was permitted to 
come under Carlton’s influence, she would escape him, and 
he put forth every effort. In vain! Margaret held firm, 
glorying in her strength of mind and purpose. 

“Oh, Margaret, you do not love me !” he said at last, re- 
proachfully.' “True love such as mine does not hesitate. 
It stops at nothing; it is all-consuming; defying the world. 
Come, dearest, let us go.” 


54 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“Well, may I hope that you will be mine some day, 
dearest ?” 

“I — I don’t know.” 

“Come, darling, say yes. Tell me to go away now and 
return in three months — a year — ten years — any time — only 
give me your promise.” 

“I can’t,” said Margaret, feverishly. Oh, why had she 
been willful ! — “not to-night.” 

“When then, darling?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. To-morrow — come to-morrow !” 

“Good!” cried Felton. “I will go now and make all 
preparations, and to-morrow you will go with me.” 

“I did not say that,” cried Margaret, dimpling. 

“But you will ! I shall count upon you. Good-by, Mar- 
garet. Give me one kiss before I go.” 

“No, no.” 

“Just one, dearest!” He crushed her to his breast, but 
Margaret covered her lips with both little hands, pressing 
hard upon them. He kissed her hands, then caught up his 
hat and coat and was gone. 

Margaret sank into an arm-chair before the fire, and for 
a long time remained motionless, gazing into the glowing 
embers, thinking of what had passed. A feverish feeling 
of exultation came over her as her thoughts returned to Ed- 
ward. She had been true to him, she told herself. She had 
rejected the other’s proposal; to be sure, not as firmly and 
irrevocably as she might have done, but still she had resisted 
him, and this, considering what had been her feeling for him 
before Edward’s home-coming, she felt was a distinct vic- 
tory on the side of her true love. Still, she thought of the 
morrow with a feeling of uneasiness and shame. What a 
predicament she was in, to be sure ! But — but, oh, Edward 


THE ROSE. 


55 


loved her ! — and this thought somehow filled her with a deli- 
cious sense of security. 

The house was very quiet : the hour was late. A feeling 
of lassitude took possession of Margaret. It had been a day 
of great excitement; her emotions had been stirred to their 
very center ; her mind was in a tumult. She settled herself 
comfortably, glancing around once, as if she half expected 
Felton to return. She put her hand to her head to push back 
her thick hair. It felt uncommonly heavy to-night. The 
fire burned low; the wind whistled mournfully around the 
house. All was quiet within. 






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Part II 


THE DREAM 




I. 


Suddenly came a sound from without, a noise of shuffling 
feet and mumbling voices. Margaret started up in vague 
alarm. The shuffling came nearer ; the mumbling increased 
in volume. There was something unearthly in the sound, 
something creepy, fearful, unreal. It was not the murmur 
of human voices ; it was not the tread of human feet. Some- 
thing uncanny was in the air. Margaret retreated behind 
her chair; her eyes remained glued to the door. Slowly it 
swung open, and before Margaret's astonished eyes ap- 
peared a queer little gnome-like creature. A broad, squat 
figure of a man, with an immense white beard, dressed all 
in rusty brown. He wore a strange cowl-like head-covering, 
which concealed all but the huge lobes of his ears. 

He was not alone — this little elf, though Margaret, in the 
first moment of amazed wonder, did not see his companions, 
five in all — short, squat, gnome-like creatures, like their 
leader, with vast flowing beards, clad all in rusty brown, 
with the same fantastic head-covering. One by one they 
came shuffling in, following their leader in single file. 

Advancing with awkward, swinging, sidelong steps, mum- 
bling all the time, they ranged themselves in a half-circle 
before Margaret’s bewildered eyes. 

Shading his eyes with his hand, the leader peered up at 
Margaret in a furtive, blinking fashion. The others, copy- 
ing their leader’s action, peered up at her from beneath 
shaggy, white brows, sheltered by their arching hands. 

''Are you?” began the leader, in a shrill, piping voice, 
"the promised wife of Robert Felton ?” 


60 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“I — I don’t know,” stammered Margaret, tremblingly. 

“Ho, ho ; she don’t know !” screamed the gnome ; and 
“Ho, ho !” screamed his five companions in weird chorus. 
“She don’t know ! Ho, ho, ho !” 

The little fellows seemed to enjoy the notion hugely. 
Tliey wagged their vast beards, nudging each other in elfish 
glee. 

“Did you or did you not promise to marry Robert Fel- 
ton?” demanded the leading gnome, pointing an accusing 
finger at the frightened girl. 

“I — I did not promise,” murmured Margaret, confusedly. 

“Ah!” cried the leading gnome, rubbing his hands to- 
gether in seeming satisfaction. “She did not promise, 
Brothers I” 

“She did not promise, not promise, not promise !” echoed 
the waggish five. 

The queer old fellow came one step nearer and peered 
again. The others followed. Margaret shivered. The 
bodies of these strange little men were composed of a kind 
of gelatine, she noticed, which was continually in motion, 
rolling, rolling in the most alarming manner, yet never quite 
collapsing. 

“What do you want?” asked Margaret, growing bolder 
by degrees. 

“Be warned!” cried the leading gnome; “do not marry 
Robert Felton. Be warned!” 

“Be warned, warned, warned!” screamed the others in 
shrill concurrence. 

“Please go away,” cried Margaret, a feeling of annoyance 
taking the place of fear. 

“Presently, presently!” piped the old fellow. “Listen! 
Do not take to husband Robert Felton — destroyer of homes 
— poisoner — murderer. Be warned !” 


THE DREAM. 


61 


“V/hat do you mean?” gasped Margaret. 

‘‘Robert Felton is a murderer — a poisoner — a destroyer of 
homes,” replied the dwarf in a hollow voice. “Do not you 
know it ? It was proclaimed from the housetops ! He was 
twice tried in the courts of law — convicted once, and sen- 
tenced to die; but again tried before Judge Wainwright — ” 

“Dear God !” cried Margaret. “My Uncle !” 

The merry five wagged their enormous beards and leered 
grotesquely up at her. 

“ — when the Jury disagreed, and he was let go,” pur- 
sued the gnome remorselessly. “And it was my child that 
was murdered — mine! My spirit-child, whom I guarded 
from all evil spirits underground, but was unable to protect 
against that earthly monster. He sent the poison — that 
enemy! A box of candy it was — sent her because she 
threatened to sue him in the courts of law. He had married 
her, but the marriage was a mockery. A friend of his, a 
fellow-student, played the part of parson, my poor child 
thinking him a minister. He wearied of her after a time 
and left her, telling of the deception he ‘had practiced, and 
she was about to expose him when he sent her the poisoned 
candy, of which she ate and died. And I have sworn, and 
my brothers have sworn, to haunt this monster to his grave 
and make his life a burden here and hereafter. All whom 
he loves shall hate him ; all whom he trusts shall rend him ; 
what is sweet shall become bitter in his mouth; what is 
beautiful in his eyes shall be transformed. We have 
sworn !” 

“We have sworn, we have sworn !” shrilled the terrible five. 

“Hence our mission here,” murmured the leader, omin- 
ously. “Be warned, fair lady ; be warned !” 

And again the terrible five shrilled in chorus, “Warned, 
warned, warned !” 


62 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


Margaret tried to speak, but her tongue was as if par- 
alyzed. She bowed in meek submission. 

“Come, Brothers,” said the leading gnome ; “our mission 
here is done ! Let us away !” 

Hastily they fell in line behind him. Bowing low, the 
Chief waddled out. The others, one and all, bowed low 
to Margaret, who started up confusedly to return their 
polite salute. Then they filed away with shuffling feet, 
mumbling strangely as they went. 

They were gone. Margaret sank back in a sort of 
swoon. For moments she remained motionless, with eyes 
closed, as one in sleep. Then slowly her rigid attitude re- 
laxed ; her eyes opened, and she gazed in wide-eyed wonder 
around the room. All was as it had been. The fire burned 
low ; the great lamp shed a soft brilliance on all around. 
Outside the wind howled mournfully. Margaret rubbed her 
eyes ; then rose to her feet. 

“It was a dream,” she murmured, half smiling, yet clearly 
uncertain about it. “I fell asleep here before the fire — and — 
goodness, what a horrible dream !” 

But was it in truth a dream? Had she really slept? 
Oh, to be sure! Felton a — . How ridiculous I The Judge, 
her uncle, would not have permitted his presence for a mo- 
ment in that house, had he been other than he seemed. 
But how strange — how more than strange — how vivid and 
lifelike it all had seemed ! Margaret smiled, recalling cer- 
tain vivid details, such as the soggy appearance of the little 
men, who had looked as if every moment the}^ would topple 
over and form one shapeless mass of quivering brown jelly. 
But, dear God, what a horrible dream to come to her! 
Margaret shuddered, yet, in the midst of her horror, she 
laughed aloud. It was really too funny for anything, those 
queer little waggish gnomes, with their vast, flowing beards 


THE DREAM. 


63 


and cunning little bow-legged figures! Margaret quite 
screamed as the humor of the thing broke in full upon 
her mind — the awful solemnity of the small leader — her own 
ridiculous fright— their queer, duck-like waddle— their elab- 
orate politeness and stunning courtesy. It was really too 
droll. Margaret laughed until tears came into her eyes and 
flowed down her cheeks. 

Oh, the funny little things,” she gasped, when finally 
she could speak. '‘How queer they looked, waddling one 
behind the other, for all the world like little brown ducks! 
Oh, the dear little fellows !” 

Suddenly, as Margaret sat mirthfully revolving these 
matters, there came a tapping upon the window. She 
started up in renewed alarm, and for a moment stood gaz- 
ing in the direction from whence the sound had come, quiv- 
ering with excitement. This time there could be no mistake. 
She was wide awake. This was no dream. Again it 
sounded — a rat-tat-tat, clear, distinct — and then a voice that 
made her heart throb in tumultuous recognition. 

“Margaret, Margaret !” 

It was the voice of Mr. Felton. It could be no other! 
Trembling she knew not why, Margaret hurried to the 
window, and drew aside the heavy lace curtains ; then 
started back, in fluttering alarm from the pale face en- 
framed in the glass, for the moment believing it an appari- 
tion — a wraith of the young man it imaged. But, no! It 
was Felton in person. He motioned her to open the win- 
dow, smiling reassuringly. Margaret did so hurriedly, and 
he stepped into the room. He wore a peaked cap and a 
heavy ulster, with the collar turned high, and was, in fact, 
so bundled up that only the tip of his nose was visible, until, 
with a single movement, he threw back the wide collar. 
Upon his arm he carried other shawls, wraps, furs. 


64 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“Mr. Felton, what does this mean?” cried Margaret, dis- 
mayed beyond all telling, and yet she dimpled prettily, con- 
scious that in returning to her he had but done what she 
had half expected him to do. 

“It means, Margaret, that you’ve got to go with me to- 
night, if you love me,” replied Felton, in low, tense tones. 

“Impossible !” 

“Nothing is impossible to those who love,” replied Felton, 
taking her hand. “Listen, Margaret ! This evening, when 
I left you, I went straight to the hotel, and to my room, 
but not to bed. I was too happy to think of sleeping. I 
was sitting before my fire, thinking of to-morrow, and 
planning ways and means of getting away with my dar- 
ling, when suddenly the door opened, and, without any sort 
of warning. Judge Wainwright came into the room, accom- 
panied by Mr. Carlton.” 

“My uncle and Edward!” cried Margaret, wringing her 
hands. 

“Yes. I did not know the Judge was your uncle, Mar- 
garet, until that moment. If I had — but let that pass. The 
Judge is no friend to me or mine. He and my father were 
bitter rivals once. My mother had the bad taste to reject 
the Judge, and, since then, he has hated us with an in- 
veteracy that I never saw equaled.” 

“Dear me, dear me I” murmured Margaret, sympathetically. 

“He came to me to-night, Margaret, to warn me that 
my visits here would no longer be tolerated. He said that 
in the future I would be looked upon as an intruder and a 
trespasser, and dealt with accordingly. He was very angry. 
I told him that I loved you, and that you had confessed to 
me this very night that you returned my love — ” 

“Oh I” cried Margaret, blushing deeply. “And — and Mr 
Carlton there !” 


THE DREAM. 


65 


“What business had he to be there ?’’ he retorted, angrily. 
“You belong to me alone; he had no right to you, nor 
has the Judge any right to dictate what you shall do or 
shall not do. He is your uncle, true ; but that gives him 
no jurisdiction over you. What right has he to say whom 
you shall or shall not receive in your own home ? None ! 
No girl of spirit would tolerate it.” 

“Indeed, no!” cried Margaret, firing up. “I told Uncle 
so this very day.” 

“Ah!” cried Felton. “You see, Margaret, there is but 
one thing for us to do. We must elope, and elope to-night, 
else the Judge and Carlton will hound me from the town. 
Oh, they can do it! They are lawyers, both of them, and 
they spoke of getting out injunctions and what not to keep 
me off the ground and drive me from Wesport. I told 
them we were engaged, but — ” 

“Oh, oh, oh, oh!” cried Margaret, in a rising crescendo 
of dismay, “with Mr. Carlton there?” 

“Certainly!” replied the young man, scowling. 

“What did he say?” asked Margaret, breathlessly. 

“He — he — said I lied, and sprang upon me — the brute! 
But the Judge restrained him,” fumed Felton. 

“Oh, oh, oh, oh!” cried Margaret, clasping her hands. 
“Did — did he hurt you very much?” she asked, demurely. 

“Come, Margaret, there is no help for it. We must 
go to-night. Will you go?” 

“Oh, I can’t,” cried Margaret, drawing back. “Really, 
I wouldn’t think of doing such a thing!” 

“Ah, you do not love!” cried Felton, bitterly. “Will 
you let your uncle control your choice? Will you let him 
dictate to you, browbeat you into marrying a man you do 
not love? How often have you spoken to me of a woman’s 
sacred right of choice, Margaret?” 


66 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


He caught her in his arms and long and earnestly gazed 
into her eyes. His passionate gaze aroused her. How 
handsome he was ! Her arms went around his neck, her 
form bent towards him. He kissed her lips with burning 
kisses. Ah ! 

But suddenly Margaret started back. Across her mind 
came flashing the vivid remembrance of her most life-like 
dream. 

‘‘Let me go, Mr. Felton,” she gasped. “Oh, please do 
not touch me!” 

“What is it, Margaret?” asked Felton, gazing at her in 
startled amazement. 

“The little men,” began Margaret, and then paused and 
broke into that bewildering smile, which nearly drove him 
to distraction. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” he asked, tenderly. “Why 
do you look at me so strangely?” 

“I fell asleep here before the fire,” replied Margaret, 
slowly; “and I dreamed — ” 

“Of me?” cried Felton, eagerly. “Did you, Margaret? 
You were thinking of me when you fell asleep! Ah, my 
love! That was sweet of you! Come, Margaret. Come 
with me. I will take you to a land of dreams, beautiful 
dreams of love and happiness. Will you come, darling?” 

Again he caught her to his heart, again gazed deep into 
her eyes. Margaret regarded him with deep emotion. His 
passion stirred her to the very depths of her being. Oh, 
beautiful, beautiful! Was ever man so sweet? Was ever 
love so maddening? Softly her arms went around his 
neck; she inclined towards him; her lips met his, and all 
was lost! Half swooning with the intoxicating joy of that 
sweet kiss, she clung to him in utter abandon. 


THE DREAM. 


67 


Will you go with me, Margaret?” he whispered once 
again. 

“How can I, Mr. Felton?” murmured Margaret, 
quivering. 

“Robert.” 

“How can I, Robert — my clothes — ” 

“You will need none! Look, IVe brought a cloak; see 
the cowl; and here are furs and wraps! I have the auto 
waiting at the corner. The roads are good. In an hour 
we will be in the city and married.” 

“But — but — ” gasped the bewildered girl. “How can 
I leave behind all my pretty gowns, Robert? And my hats 
— oh, dear! one I’ve worn only once! Oh, I can’t, I can’t 
go ! I couldn’t think of it, really — Robert,” said Margaret, 
very earnestly. 

“They shall be sent after us, and there are others to be 
had in the city, no doubt. You shall dress like a queen, 
my pretty Margaret. Come, darling!” 

He threw a long cloak around her and drew the thick 
cowl over her head, while Margaret still was protesting 
faintly. The face looked so pretty looking out of the cowl 
that he once more kissed it. 

“Now, Margaret; here are furs and wraps.” 

“But I can’t go in this thing,” protested Margaret, hor- 
rified. “I’m sure I look a fright ; perfectly sure of it !” 

“You look like an angel!” he cried. “See!” 

He drew her before a mirror, in which she surveyed 
herself with much frowning anxiety. 

“I look hideous,” she said with conviction, though she 
dimpled prettily at the reflection in the glass. 

“Come, dearest,” he urged. 

“In a moment,” she replied, turning this way and that, 
and patting herself with much industry. Felton groaned. 


68 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“It is getting late, dearest?” he said. 

“Well, then — but where are we going?” said Margaret, 
drawing back. 

“We’re going to be married!” cried Felton, in despair. 
“Come, darling!” 

“Oh, but I can’t go !” said Margaret, following him, how- 
ever. “Really, I can’t, Robert !” taking his hand as he 
stepped through the window. “You mustn’t ask such a 
thing!” she continued, giggling like a giddy school girl, 
as she allowed him to assist her to the verandah. “How 
very ridiculous to think I would go; and in the night, too!” 

Felton assisted her to the ground, still protesting that 
she would not, could not go, and, without one backward 
glance, he hurried her away. A huge automobile was wait- 
ing at the next corner, with lights turned low. Hurriedly 
assisting Margaret into the machine, Felton climbed in 
beside her, and, with a tremendous chug-chugging, they 
were off. 

“We’ll be married in an hour, darling, and you’ll belong 
all to me,” whispered Felton, tenderly. 

“Oh, no, no, no, Robert,” protested Margaret, faintly 
smiling. “The very idea ! Really, it’s ridiculous, Robert !” 

Felton laughed softly, but said no more. Margaret nes- 
tled down beside him contentedly, and onward they sped 
like the wind. It was a ride long to be remembered. The 
roads were good. Recent cold weather had frozen them 
hard, and the light layer of snow did no harm. It had 
almost ceased snowing now; the wind had died away, but 
the air was growing cold, freezingly cold. Margaret com- 
plained peevishly, and Felton responded by putting on 
more speed. They seemed to fairly fly across the country.. 
How dark it was, and constantly growing darker ! Mar- 
garet shivered. On they went, and ever onward, the keen 


THE' DREAM. 69 

night air roaring past their ears. Houses flashed by : they 
sped through villages so quiet they seemed to be inhabited 
by the dead. They spoke little, but every now and then 
Felton would bend down to kiss the girl, who responded 
faintly, feeling cold and fretful. She nestled down in his 
arms, submitting to his passionate kisses, which seemed 
to warm her a little. 

Suddenly she started up, listening. From far away in 
the direction from whence they had come, came the steady 
roar of another giant machine. She looked at Felton ques- 
tioningly. 

“We are pursued,” he said, coolly. 

“By whom?” 

“Carlton, probably, and the Judge.” 

“Oh !” cried Margaret, cowering prettily up to him. 

“They’ll have to put on more speed to catch us,” said 
Felton, grimly chuckling. “This car has a record. Sit close, 
darling. Here goes for the ninety notch.” 

And then, to Margaret’s excited senses it seemed as if 
they were fairly shooting through space, so terrific was 
their speed. Her eyes were freezing in their sockets ; a 
tremendous rush of air pressed her gasping against her 
lover ; a roaring like the howling of ten thousand demons 
resounded in her ears. She tried to cry out, but breath 
failed her. She was swooning — dying — when all suddenly 
the speed was lessened, and she breathed again. 

“Good gracious!” she gasped, terrified; “that was dread- 
ful ; terrible !” 

Felton laughed grimly. 

“We’ve left them behind,” he said, chuckling. “Listen!” 

Not a sound came from the rear. The pursuing motor 
had been hopelessly distanced. Chuckling gleefully, Felton 
pushed on. They reached the outskirts of a city, and he 


70 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


slowed down a little, but still they went on at a spanking 
pace, through lighted streets now, past long rows of silent 
houses and down streets lined with stores and shops bril- 
liantly illuminated in spots by flashing electricity. ^ 

“I know a minister here, Margaret — a Mr. Draper,’’ said 
Felton, presently. “We can be married by him, if you wish, 
and then cross the ferry, or we can go on and be married 
on the other side ; only, we may have to wait at the river, 
and they’ll catch up. What do you say, dear?” 

Margaret nodded. Through a side street they sped down 
a broad avenue, until, after several rapid turns, they brought 
up before a ramshackle old house. All was dark within. 
Felton knocked and hallooed for some moments without 
eliciting any response, but finally a light appeared at a 
window above. 

“What is it?” asked a quavering voice. 

“Is Mr. Draper at home?” asked Felton, brusquely. 

“Why?” 

“A couple wish to be married. Hurry.” 

“Dear me, it’s very late, my dear sir.” 

“Never mind ; I’ll make it worth your while. Come, 
now.” 

“Oh, very well, my friend. One moment.” 

Felton lifted his pretty companion from the car, taking 
advantage of the opportunity to press his lips to the trem- 
bling little mouth. Margaret said no word, but silently 
accompanied him to the door, which presently was opened 
by a young man in dressing gown and slippers. He held 
a lamp in one hand, and peered at them from beneath the 
sheltering arch of the other. He was followed in the dis- 
tance by a woman — his wife, probably. She looked pale 
and disheveled, and the glance she leveled at Margaret was 
both odd and lowering. Margaret, meeting that look, felt 


THE DREAM. 


71 


strangely uneasy and afraid. She drew nearer to Felton, 
glanced inquiringly into his face. He smiled reassuringly, 
and, with his arm around the slender form, he drew her 
into the house. 

^"Come right into the parlor, sir,” said the man, briskly. 
“It won't take two minutes.” 

He did not seem to know Felton, which Margaret thought 
odd, in view of Robert's brusque, familiar manner. He 
seemed also to shun Margaret's eyes as much as the woman 
sought them, and, altogether, he differed widely from Mar- 
garet’s conception of a minister. But she took her place 
by Robert's side in listless fashion, and looked on curiously 
as the minister bustled about the room, indifferently almost, 
as if she were witnessing the preliminaries to the marriage 
of some stranger. She recalled just such another hurried 
wedding which she had attended long ago, and remembered 
how she had pitied the bride, little dreaming that some day 
she would be married in the same way. 

The minister spoke to her, asking if she was ready. 

“Come, Margaret,” said Felton, huskily. 

“Yes, yes!” she replied, and placed herself by his side, 
facing the minister. 

“Are you sure — quite sure she wishes it?” asked the 
woman, coming forward suddenly. 

“Amy!” cried the minister, as one astounded, and she 
shrank behind him. 

By this time another woman had joined them, an old 
lady, who remained in the background throughout, nodding 
and mouthing in the strangest way. Margaret remembered 
that scene for a long time — the frowsy young minister, in 
flowered dressing gown and slippers; his wife, pale and 
terrified, wearing a waist of some woolen stuff, dyed crim- 
son, and a woolen petticoat of a gray color, reaching barely 


72 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


to her ankles. Her bare feet thrust into woolen house 
shoes, the color of her waist, and upon her brown hair she 
wore a pretty rufifled cap; in the rear the mouthing old 
woman in shawl and cap, grinning and jabbering in voice- 
less glee. 

“Names, please?’’ said the minister, and, though he spoke 
in a low tone, his voice sounded like a roar in Margaret’s ears. 

“Robert Felton — Margaret Wainwright,” replied Felton, 
and the names echoed and re-echoed in the strangest way 
around Margaret’s head, resounding and receding on all 
sides of her, like the widening circles in a pool stirred to its 
depths by a plunging body. 

“Miss Wainwright is of age, I presume?’’ asked the min- 
ister briskly, and Margaret, sighing in piteous protest, cov- 
ered her ears with her hands, striving to shut out the roll 
and rumble of his voice. 

“Oh, come,” cried Felton, peevishly. “Go ahead, will 
you? We can’t stay here all night. It’s almighty cold!” 

The minister shook his head, reproachfully smiling at the 
young man’s impatience. Margaret, meeting his glance in 
a momentary flash, shivered as from cold. There was some- 
thing sinister in the man’s eyes. She turned quickly to gaze 
at the woman, and met in full a glance in which terror and 
pity were equally blended. The movement of the uncouth 
figure in the background seemed fraught with the same 
strange spirit of warning. 

“Oh, Robert!” whispered Margaret, shrinking back ter- 
rified, “let us go away. I’m afraid.” 

“Afraid of what, darling?” 

“I — I don’t know. Only let us go away. Please, please, 
please, Robert.” 

“When we are married, dear, not before,” replied Felton, 
between set teeth. “Come, sir; no nonsense, now.” 


THE DREAM. 


73 


He turned in a listening attitude to the window. From 
without came distinctly the roar of an approaching motor. 

“Hurry, hurry !” he cried, furiously. “What do you think 
this is — a picnic? Come! Margaret, darling, they are on 
us.” 

“Will you have — ” began the minister, hurriedly. 

“Yes, certainly,” replied Margaret, shivering. 

And the next moment they were pronounced man and 
wife. Almost on the instant came a shout from without, and 
the violent chugging of a giant machine brought to a sudden 
halt. Margaret gave a little cry and pressed close to her 
husband. 

“It’s Edward!” she whispered. “Edward and my uncle! 
Oh, don’t let me see them !” 

“Look up, Margaret,” whispered Felton, as she buried her 
face against his breast. “You are my wife now; let them 
come !” 

And the next moment they came rushing in — Carlton and 
the Judge. 

“Margaret!” cried the Judge, starting back at sight of her 
in Felton’s arms. 

“You infernal villain!” roared Carlton, rushing upon his 
rival. 

The Judge restrained him. 

“Steady, boy, steady!” he said. “Are we too late?” he 
added, addressing the minister eagerly. 

“They were married a moment ago, sir,” the minister 
replied, looking pale and agitated. 

The woman uttered a little cry. The mouthing figure in 
the background began to dance, wildly waving her arms. 
Margaret, trembling and sobbing, pressed close to her hus- 
band. 

“Well, gentlemen,” said Felton, in a sharp, sneering voice. 


74 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“You see, I’ve trumped your trick. Carlton, if you come a 
step nearer. I’ll shoot you down as I would a mad dog.” 

Margaret uttered a scream, and caught his arm in both 
her little hands, pressing it convulsively. He lowered the 
glittering revolver. 

“Well, Judge,” he said, “are you going to keep us here 
all night ? Come ! My wife is a good deal shaken. Make 
way !” 

He advanced a step, with Margaret on his arm. 

The Judge stayed them with a stern wave of his hand. 

“One moment !” he thundered. “Pardon me,” he contin- 
ued, turning to the minister. “This does not seem altogether 
right to me.” 

“How so?” cried Felton, brusquely. 

“Are you indeed a minister, sir?” demanded the Judge, 
sharply ; “or is this another of this young man’s tricks ?” 

“Most assuredly, sir, I am a minister!” replied the man, 
gazing in wide-eyed astonishment at his interlocutor. “What 
a question to ask !” 

The Judge said no more; but stepped back, dragging 
Carlton with him. Felton, with a sneering smile of scorn, 
advanced with his bride on his arm. Margaret’s eyes, were 
downcast; she was trembling like a leaf. In one swift up- 
ward glance she caught a glimpse of Edward’s tense, hag- 
gard face, and the sight pierced her like a sword. In that 
supreme moment, standing face to face with the man she 
had betrayed, the truth in all its mighty majesty flashed in 
full upon her. It was indeed Edward whom she loved ! The 
sight of his anguish griped her very heart-strings. She felt 
her knees giving way beneath her, and, with a piercing cry 
of “Edward, Edward !” she sank swooning at his feet. 

She felt herself caught up in powerful arms and borne 
away. She strove to cry out, but her tongue refused to act. 


THE DREAM. 


75 


She tried with all her feeble might to beat back the face of 
Felton, which suddenly had become loathsome to her. This 
rnighty revulsion of feeling coming in one moment’s time 
sickened her. She fainted dead away. The last thing she 
saw was Edward’s ghastly face; the last thing she heard was 
the anguished cry that came bursting from his breaking 
heart. Then merciful darkness. 


II. 


When Margaret recovered consciousness, she found her- 
self lying upon a couch in a luxuriously appointed apart- 
ment. Felton was by her side, and several women were 
gathered around, looking down at her with pitying eyes. 
Margaret gazed around in wonder. What had happened? 
Where was she? Who were these strange people? She 
recognized Felton, of course, and wondered with a feeling 
of astonishment who had admitted him to her presence at 
a time when, evidently, she was not presentable. She tried 
to rise, but sank back again, feeling strangely weak and 
languid. 

“Mama! Where is Mama?” she murmured, confusedly. 

She put up her hands to press back her heavy hair, and 
screen her eyes from the dazzling light of a score of brilliant 
globules arranged in beautiful clusters around the walls and 
ceiling. From beneath her sheltering palms she gazed ear- 
nestly at the smiling women. No, she did not know them. 
There were three in all, beautifully gowned, quite as if 
they were going to a ball or returning from the opera, or 
attending a society event of some kind. Margaret decided 
in favor of the opera. One was well past middle age, grey- 
haired, slender, with a careworn, motherly face; the other 
two were quite young. Evidently they were nearly related. 
Yes, there could be no doubt of it — the old lady was the 
mother of the two younger women ! Margaret smiled faintly 
and the puzzled frown with which at first she had regarded 


THE DREAM. 


77 


them gave way to a look of calm inquiry. These women 
were strangers to her. The apartment was new and alto- 
gether too magnificent to be her rightful abode. What 
pretty gowns the young ladies had on! Margaret glanced 
down at her own, and found to her dismay and horror that 
her dress was open at the throat, which now was to the full 
exposed, as she lay half covered by a richly embroidered 
cloth. Hastily covering her breast with her two little hands, 
she turned indignant eyes upon Felton. 

“Where am I?” she said, blushing deeply as she met his 
ardent gaze. “What are you doing here ? How dare you — ” 

“You are with me, Margaret,” replied Felton, sinking on 
his knees beside the couch; “with me, your husband. We 
are in New York — at home, dearest.” 

Margaret gazed at him for a time in frowning silence, 
wondering, bewildered by his strange manner, his smile .so 
triumphant at once and gloating — then slowly her eyes di- 
lated; slowly she withdrew from his touch until she was 
fairly crouching against the wall. It had all come back to 
her — her flight with Felton — their hasty marriage— her 
uncle's coming with Carlton — her piercing sorrow at sight 
of Edward’s stricken face, and the strong revulsion of feel- 
ing against Felton. 

At that supreme moment her heart had opened to the 
awful truth. She shrank in mortal terror against the wall. 

“Go away !” she cried, faintly, pushing him from her side. 
“Don’t touch me.” 

“Why, Margaret,” cried Felton, starting. up in astonish- 
ment. “We are married — you are my wife !” 

“Never !” replied the girl, rising, very pale but determined. 
“It wasn’t a true marriage !” 

“There, there, dear,” interposed the motherly-looking 
woman, soothingly. “Calm yourself, my love.” 


78 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“Who are you ?” cried Margaret, eagerly seizing her hand. 
“Pray, pray, don’t let him take me. I — I don’t love him. 
I’m afraid of him. Oh, please be kind, and don’t let him 
take me.” 

“Hush, child ! You are excited. Try and compose your- 
self. No harm can befall you here. See, my love, I am 
Robert’s mother, and these girls are his sisters. This is our 
home, of which, no doubt, Robert has spoken to you, as he 
often spoke to us of you. Robert brought you here an hour 
ago, and told us you were married. And we are so proud 
and so delighted, and were so concerned about you. But 
now, you are well again, aren’t you? Robert told us about 
the fright you had. But you are safe here. Come, my dear, 
kiss your husband and your husband’s mother and sisters.” 

“He’s not my husband,” replied Margaret, regarding her 
with large, frightened eyes. 

Her poor little mouth was quivering painfully, and her 
hands were opening and closing in deepest agitation. 

“My dear — ” began the old lady. 

“I am not married to him, I say,” interrupted the girl, 
feverishly. “Believe me, I am not. I belong to Edward — 
Mr. Carlton, that is. He was to come to-morrow, and I 
meant to accept him, when he — he came and prevailed on 
me to elope with him. I didn’t want to go, because I do not 
love him — not really. It is Edward whom I love.” 

“Margaret, you must be mad!” cried Felton in a fury. 
“Leave us alone, can’t you?” he stormed, turning upon the 
women. 

“Hush, Rob,” replied his mother, authoritatively. “You 
will gain nothing by losing your temper. Leave her to me. 
Gertrude — Agnes — I will rejoin you presently.” 

The girls, in a flutter of excitement, left the room, walk- 
ing slowly and with many a backward glance at the beauti- 


THE DREAM. 


79 


fill stranger who had come among them under circumstances 
so romantic. 

“Margaret — is that your name?’' said Mrs. Felton, sink- 
ing into an armchair and drawing Margaret to her side. “A 
pretty name, my love. Tell me all about it, Margaret, will 
you? You eloped with Robert, you say, and yet you are not 
married ? How very strange, Margaret !” 

“He — the man — wasn’t a minister at all!” gasped Mar- 
garet, flashing now and then a fearful glance in Felton’s 
direction, who stood glowering at some distance. He still 
wore his greatcoat, but he had thrown aside his cap, and, 
bareheaded, enveloped in the heavy ulster, which was thrown 
back from his breast, he looked very stern and handsome and 
mighty. “Uncle George said so. He followed us — Uncle 
George and Edward. I didn’t understand at first — but he 
was not a minister at all. I — I must have fainted. Edward 
looked so unhappy, and — and I was so frightened and 
ashamed, because I loved Edward dearly, and — ” 

“Margaret 1” cried Felton. “Do not say that or you will 
regret it.” 

“I do !” she replied, defiantly, but clinging with the grasp 
of a drowning woman to his mother’s sleeve, who gathered 
the trembling girl close. 

“Robert,” she said gravely, “explain !” 

“It is all a mistake. Mama,” cried Felton. “I can set 
everything right in two minutes, if you will leave us alone 
together.” 

“No, no I” cried Margaret, desperately hugging the elder 
lady. “Don’t go away. Please, please don’t leave me alone 
with him; he— he frightens me. Oh, Madame, my uncle 
loved you once, and he still thinks of you, I know — ” 

“Hush, child!” said Mrs. Felton, in a voice of singular 
tenderness. “Robert, what is the meaning of this? Is it 


80 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


possible that, after what has passed, you have again — ” 

“What damned folly!” shouted Felton, stamping about 
the room in a terrible passion. “She is my wife, I tell you. 
We were married not two hours ago.” 

“Then what—” 

“Oh, it’s some crazy notion she’s got into her head. A 
silly fool — Judge Wainwright — came in on us with Carl- 
ton—” 

“He threatened to shoot Edward !” cried Margaret, hyster- 
ically. “Oh, I hate him !” 

“Hush, child,” said Mrs. Felton, with some severity. “It 
seems to me that you are much to blame in this matter. Go 
on, Rob.” 

Margaret, hearing herself thus gently chided, withdrew 
a few steps to the rear, and stationed herself behind a huge 
arm chair, across which she gazed with flushed cheeks and 
frightened eyes at the angry young man, who stood facing 
her, looking very grim and determined. 

“I drew in self-defence,” retorted Felton, hotly. “Carlton 
was coming at me like a mad bull, and it was his life or mine, 
if the Judge hadn’t stopped him. That’s all that saved his 
infernal hide. Mama, if you love me, go! Leave my wife 
to me.” 

“If you go, I shall die,” whimpered Margaret, creeping 
once more into the sheltering arms of the perplexed mother. 
“I shall kill myself if he touches me.” 

“Bah !” growled Felton, and, in absolute frenzy, he caught 
up a beautiful vase of flowers and dashed it upon the floor, 
where it was shattered into a thousand pieces. “By God ! it’s 
enough to drive a man mad. Mother, will you leave us 
alone ? I’ll bring her to her senses in mighty short order.” 

“Don’t be a fool, Robert, like your father before you,” 


THE DREAM. 


81 


cried his mother, with asperity. '‘Don’t you see you are only 
frightening the child with your violence? There, there, 
dear, he sha’n’t harm you,” she continued, laughing softly at 
Margaret’s frightened eyes. “Pooh, pooh ! It’s all noise 
and smoke, my dear, I assure you. Now, Margaret, listen 
to me. Why do you say that Robert is not your husband?” 

“f — I don’t know,” faltered Margaret. “I didn’t want to 
marry him. I don’t love him, really ; and Uncle George said 
the man wasn’t a minister. I heard him — Edward was there 
— and I was so ashamed, because I had as good as accepted 
him this very night, and I only permitted Mr. Felton to 
come in because I wanted to make quite sure of myself. For 
weeks and weeks I had been torn between them, and I had 
just made up my mind that I belonged to Edward, although 
I liked Mr. Felton, when he — he came, and — and begged and 
prayed me to elope with him, and so I went with him, al- 
though I didn’t really want to go. And Edward hates me 
now ; I know he does !” 

She ended with a burst of tears, and threw herself sobbing 
into a chair, burying her face in the cushions. Mrs. Felton 
folded her hands with a look of resignation. 

“You see. Mama,” said Felton, impatiently, “the Judge 
did in effect declare Draper a fraud in our hearing, but he 
had the good sense to see his error when the astonished min- 
ister repudiated the charge. Margaret seems to have over- 
looked that entirely. An accusation is the same as proof to 
a woman, it appears !” 

“I wash my hands of it all,” said Mrs. Felton, going 
through the motions. “If you are really married, of course 
there is nothing more to say. Only, I think, Rob, you might 
be more gentle with her. Drawing pistols and smashing 
crockery, and that kind of thing, while it may frighten a 
girl, will not win her affection. Be kind, my son. She is 


82 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


a delicate flower. Alas !” she ended, with a sigh ; ''too deli- 
cate, Fm afraid, and timid to curb and control you.” 

"Nonsense, Mama,” said Felton, bending down and gently 
kissing Margaret’s hair. "I won’t need the curb now.” 

Margaret still was weeping softly with averted face. The 
young man knelt by her side, and, with a gentle hand sought 
to turn her eyes to his. She did not resist him now, nor aid 
him in the least degree. 

"Margaret,” he said, softly, "why do you use me so? 
You know how dearly I love you. Look at me, darling. I 
didn’t mean to frighten you. Believe me, I would rather 
die. Don’t you love me any more? Look at me, sweet- 
heart. Just one little glance; one little glimpse of heaven 
for me? Not one ! Oh, Margaret, you are not kind !” 

He gently turned the sweet face up to his ; but for an in- 
voluntary shudder that ran through her at his touch, Mar- 
garet remained motionless, with eyes obstinately closed. She 
looked very beautiful, with her long black lashes resting 
upon tear-flushed cheeks, her entire attitude denoting a mind 
and body drawn to the highest possible tension. Mrs. Fel- 
ton smiled and nodded sagely. Felton, murmuring fond 
words of endearment, kissed her eyes and cheeks and rosy 
mouth. She did not resist, but, when he released her little 
chin, she shivered as from cold and turned her face away, 
covering her burning cheeks with her hands. 

"Leave her to me, Robert,” whispered his mother, tenderly 
embracing the girl. "It will be all right to-morrow. She is 
overwrought. The excitement has been too much for her.” 

"Well, I like that!” cried Felton, frowning mightily. 

Margaret .shivered, but did not look up. 

"It is necessary, my son. Come, Rob, trust me,” said his 
mother in a low voice. "It will be best. Don’t you see she 


THE DREAM. 


83 


is nearly distraught. She is frightened and tired, poor, trem- 
bling little love.” 

Margaret by this time was nestling in the mother’s arms, 
with eyes closed like a tired child. 

“Her mother surely is a tender soul,” whispered the old 
lady, smiling. “See how she clings to me! Like a little 
child, I declare. Well, Bobbie?” 

“Oh, very well. If you think it best, of course. I’ll go,” 
replied Felton, turning away in great ill-humor. “I call 
it rather hard luck. Mama.” 

“Pooh, pooh !” returned his mother, good-humoredly. 

“I’ll go upstairs. She can remain here, I suppose ? You’ll 
stay with her, mother?” 

“For a little while. She must go to bed and get some 
sleep. The poor, dear child is completely worn out with ex- 
citement and emotion. 

Felton bent down once more and softly kissed the girl, 
and, with a final, lingering look at the flower-like face re- 
posing in his mother’s arms, he went away. 

The moment he was gone Margaret raised her head and 
gazed around the room, drawing in a deep breath of relief. 

“Is he gone?” she said, eagerly rising. “Oh, thank God!” 

“My child, I can’t understand you,” said the old lady, 
frowning. “One moment you are as hot as fire, the next 
as meek as a lamb. But a moment ago you seemed utterly 
exhausted, and now — ” 

“I am very sorry,” replied Margaret, humbly, “but, you 
see, I — I had to dissemble, else he wouldn’t have gone !” 

“Dissemble!” cried the dame, in a dudgeon. “Do you 
mean — ” 

“Pray, pray, do not be angry with me,” implored Mar- 
garet. “I really don’t know what I am saying. I’m so — so 
tired and sleepy.” 


84 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“Well, go to bed, then,’^ said the old lady, kindly. “I can 
well believe that you are tired, my dear. See, this is the 
bed-chamber. These are Robert's apartments, you know. 
Shall I send a maid ?” ^ 

“No, no ; thank you.” 

“Or one of the girls?” 

“Not to-night, please; I am too tired.” 

“Well, then, good night, Margaret. Come, kiss me, dear. 
What a pretty, pretty girl. I declare, Tve grown quite fond 
of you already. I don’t blame Robert in the least little bit 
for running away with you, even if he did so a little against 
your will. Confess, child, you do love him ?” 

“I — I don’t know,” stammered Margaret. “I thought so 
once, but — ” 

“Ah, it will all come right, trust me, Margaret. Good 
night, dear.” 

With a last kiss, which Margaret returned but faintly, the 
good woman went away, leaving Margaret alone with her 
woe. She sank like one exhausted into a chair, and for a 
long time remained motionless, with her eyes fixed upon the 
rug at her feet, trying to think, but utterly unable to bring 
her mind to bear. The overwhelming sense of her great 
misfortune in the loss of Edward stunned her. 

What a horrible fate was hers ! Loving Edward with all 
her heart and soul, she had bound herself irrevocably to 
Felton. What madness ! What unconscionable folly ! The 
Judge had warned her; her own heart had spoken, and Ed- 
ward’s darling declaration had confirmed her bosom’s mes- 
sage — why, even a supernatural power had come to her, and 
in a dream — had it in truth been a dream ! Margaret started 
up at the thought. Had she dreamed those awful things, 
or was Felton in truth a — a murderer? Shrieking aloud in 
her anguish, Margaret sank down to the very floor, crushed 


THE DREAM. 


85 


to earth by the consciousness of her horrible position, into 
which her own headstrong folly and passion had plunged her. 

“Dear God,’’ she prayed, crouching down like some timid, 
animal at bay, “let me die to cleanse me of this awful 
sin. Oh, why did not I listen to my heart’s dear prompt- 
ings? Oh, why was I wayward and stubborn? In pure 
wantonness of spirit I trifled with the most sacred feelings 
which God has given to woman, and plunged- myself into 
lifelong misery and shame, and Edward into — what? Sui- 
cide, mayhap !” 

As this awful thought flashed across her mind, Margaret 
started up with a piercing scream. Hark ! What was that 
sound? With her hand on her heart she paused, listening. 
From without came distinctly that curious mumbling — that 
uncanny shufhing which once before that night had curdled 
the blood in her veins. The little men were returning! 
Margaret gazed wildly around. There was no escape. She 
waited, trembling like a frightened hare, with her eyes glued 
upon the door. Slowly it swung open, and slowly the little 
elves came waddling in — the selfsame six — who ranged 
themselves in a half-circle before Margaret’s dilating eyes. 
The leader advanced a step, and, beneath his sheltering 
palm, peered closely up at her. The five rolled soggily in 
their places: their silence weighed ominously. Margaret 
waited, trembling for she knew not what dread happenings. 

“It is the same. Brothers,” sighed the leading gnome. 

“The same, the same, the same!” chorused the terrible 
five, heaving a long-drawn sigh in unison. 

“Oh, sirs !” cried Margaret, piteously, stretching forth her 
hands. 

“Our warning has gone unheeded. Brothers,” again 
sighed the leader, and again his followers replied in sighing 
chorus, “Unheeded, unheeded, unheeded !” 


86 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


"‘She has married Felton — poisoner, murderer, destroyer 
of homes! She has taken to husband this monster, even 
though we warned her — even though we painted him in all 
his enormity — showed him to her as he was I She married 
him — Felton — poisoner, murderer, destroyer of homes I” 

“Oh, sirs,’' cried Margaret wildly; “I thought it all a 
dream I” 

“A dream !” screamed the leader, wildly waving his arms. 

“A dream I” screamed the elfish five, rising up in a fury 
of wildest rage. 

Margaret shrank away from them, cowering in her chair, 
still stretching forth her arms, imploring pardon. 

“Have mercy!” murmured the wretched girl. 

“Who had mercy on me and mine !” screamed the leading 
gnome. 

Instantly the five uprose, screeching and waving their 
arms in a frenzy of mad concurrence, grimacing horribly 
all the time. 

And now a silence fell upon them all. The unearthly visi- 
tors glared up at Margaret with terrible eyes, rolling, rolling 
in their places. Margaret waited breathlessly for she knew 
not what. 

“All whom he loves shall hate him,” intoned the Chief. 
“All whom he trusts shall rend him; what is sweet shall 
become bitter in his mouth; what is beautiful in his eyes 
shall be transformed. We have sworn !” 

“We have sworn, we have sworn!” screamed the terrible 
five. 

“Oh, sir,” pleaded Margaret, dreadfully frightened now; 
“oh, sirs, pray spare me !” 

Silence only answered her. The leading gnome advanced 
slowly a pace — two paces, three — paused, and, raising his 
hands, made a few swift passes in the air. At once a strange 


THE DREAM. 


87 


fluttering darkness, like ten thousand flitting shadows, en- 
veloped the girl. She seemed to shrink up, to fall together, 
as it were; her skin felt curiously dry, her lips became 
parched, her hair crinkled as from wasting fire. Yet there 
was no sensation of pain; only a curious lassitude which 
held her quiescent in her chair. 

“Come, brothers,’’ cried the leading gnome. “Away, 
away ! Morning approaches.” 

Hastily they fell in line behind him. Bowing low, the 
chief turned and waddled out. The others one and all bowed 
low to Margaret, as on their previous visit, and Margaret 
again started up confusedly to return their polite salute, and 
they filed out, mumbling, mumbling, as they shuffled away. 


III. 


Left alone once more, Margaret sank back into her chair, 
wondering why she felt so weak, so worn and listless, won- 
dering, too, why her hands were so hard and bony. She 
had no time, however, to fathom this mystery, for, almost 
with the departure of her unearthly visitors, Felton en- 
tered the apartment, wearing a dressing gown of rose- 
colored cloth, which reached to his heels. He came in with 
a tender smile upon his lips, and was hastening across the 
room towards the door which opened into the sleeping apart- 
ment, when his glance alighted on Margaret, who had risen 
at his entrance and retreated behind the chair, where she 
now stood regarding him with a look of deepest loathing. 
Felton paused as if struck by lightning, and for a long 
moment remained motionless, with his hand to his head, 
glaring at his wife. 

'‘What do you want here, sir?” demanded Margaret, in 
a voice so harsh and cracked that she herself failed to recog- 
nize it as her own. “I do not want you here. Go instantly. 
Do you hear?” 

She pointed to the door. But Felton only stared the 
harder. 

“Good God!” he gasped at last. “What has happened?” 

Margaret, amazed by his strange demeanor, turned her- 
self around, but she could see nothing wrong. 

“What is it?” she asked, in vague alarm. 

“Who — what did this?” cried Felton, still glaring at her, 
with his hands in his hair. “What changed you ? Speak !” 


THE dream:. 


89 


“Sir !” cried Margaret, indignantly. “I do not understand 
your strange manner. What do you mean ?” 

“Are you — are you Margaret?” gasped Felton. “Mar- 
garet Wainwright ?” 

“What a question to ask ! Have you gone quite mad ?” 

“But — good God, look here !” gasped the man, dragging 
her to a mirror. 

Margaret looked and started back in horror. Dear God, 
what could it mean ! All her beauty gone — her fresh, rosy 
color — her dimpling cheeks — her beautiful, womanly figure, 
all — all vanished ! She was fearfully attenuated ; the face in 
the mirror looked old and ghastly; the eyes had lost their 
liquid fire, the mouth, once so pretty and smiling, had be- 
come a mere dark line ; her hair had lost its gloss, and before 
her very eyes was growing white! One glance Margaret 
gave, and such a cry came bursting from her lips ! She sank 
down upon the floor, crouching at his feet. 

“Have I married a withered hag!” shouted Felton, furi- 
ously, “or what is this monstrous thing? Am I dreaming? 
Good God, but an hour ago I left you young — rosy — a dream 
of delicate beauty, and now I find you old, decrepit — a bag 
of rattling bones ! Am I accursed ?” 

“Yes, accursed !” moaned Margaret. “A murderer — a 
poisoner — a destroyer of homes !” 

Felton started back, clutching at the curtains for support. 

“You know !” he gasped, pale to the lips. 

“They told me— the little men; and I was changed to 
punish you ! Oh, cruel, cruel !” 

“You lie !” stormed the man, striding madly through the 
room. “You deceived me. There is a disease in your blood, 
and to this is due this awful change. You lured me on to 
marry you — trapped me deliberately. Ha, but Fll make you 


90 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


rue the day ! Til have you carted to the pest house or the 
morgue. Til— ni— ” 

Choking and stammering with rage, he rushed upon her 
with hand raised as if to strike her down, Margaret shrank 
from the blow, and sank swooning to the floor. 

sjt i)< >}£ 5k sfj ^ 

When Margaret recovered consciousness, she was lying 
upon a snowy cot in what was evidently a private ward of 
a city hospital. It was night. The room was softly illumi- 
nated, and around her cot were gathered the dearly loved 
faces of her mother and sisters. Her mother was conversing 
in low tones with an elderly gentleman, in whom she recog- 
nized the family physician. The children were gathered in 
a group, gazing in deepest awe at their sister. Katydid knelt 
in one corner, with her little fists buried in her eyes. In 
the background stood the Judge, looking pale and worried, 
and beside him Edward, whose dear face was drawn with 
grief and suffering. Margaret sighed faintly. 

Mrs. Wainwright bent over her hastily and smiling a little, 
tremulous smile, she drew the covers close around the girl’s 
throat. 

“She is conscious. Doctor,” she whispered. 

The physician bent down. Margaret regarded him ear- 
nestly, questioningly. He placed his hand upon her pulse. 
The children gathered closer; the Judge and Edward drew 
near. 

“Mama,” whispered Margaret, weakly. 

Mrs. Wainwright fell a-weeping violently. 

“Do not talk, darling,” she said in a broken whisper. “Do 
not try to talk, Margy.” 

Margaret regarded her with earnest eyes. 

“What is it. Mama ?” she asked, faintly. 


THE DREAM. 


91 


Mrs. Wainwright replied only with a fresh outburst of 
weeping, in which the frightened children joined. A light 
broke in on Margaret. She glanced from her mother to 
the doctor.” 

“Doctor,” she whispered, “am I going to die?” 

“Compose yourself, Margaret,” he replied, soothingly. 

“Answer me,” she said, insistently. 

“No, no ; nonsense !” replied the physician, gravely 
smiling. 

“Then what does this mean? Dear Mama, tell me.” 

“Dear love, do not fret yourself. All is well now. We 
thought — we thought you never would speak again, my dear 
darling. We feared you would die without gaining con- 
sciousness. You have lain unconscious for three long weeks, 
my own.” 

“Three weeks,” whispered Margaret. “Surely not. 
Mama; surely, not so long!” 

“Yes, darling!” replied the weeping mother. “We 
searched for you everywhere, but did not find you until 
a week ago.” 

Margaret gazed around the room, her eyes resting finally 
on Edward. Her lips trembled. He was looking down at 
her with saddened eyes. 

“Mama, do I look — as when you found me?” she whis- 
pered, eagerly. 

“You are beautiful as an angel, darling.” 

“Dearest Mama,” Margaret smiled very brightly, here 
glancing shyly at Edward. “Fetch a glass, dear,” she mur- 
mured. 

The glass was brought. Margaret tried to take it in her 
hand, but was astonished to find that she could not move 
a finger. 

“Dear God, how weak IVe grown !” she thought. 


92 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


Her mother held the mirror to her eyes. Margaret looked 
and at once broke into a happy smile. Her face had recov- 
ered all of its old-time beauty. It was terribly worn and 
wasted, indeed, and very, very pale, but there was no sign 
of age on it. Her eyes, made large by wasting fever, glowed 
with more than common lustre; her heavy black hair glis- 
tened in the light ; her fine brow, white as snow, looked noble 
in its vast overarching breadth, and there was a something 
stamped upon the face — a spiritual fire — an ethereal beauty 
born of sorrow and suffering, beside which mere color and 
form were as nothing. 

Margaret smiled very brightly into her mother’s eyes. 

“Call Edward,” she whispered. 

He came to her at once, and, kneeling down, he bent and 
pressed his lips to the wasted little hand. 

“Peggy !” he gasped, and, bowing his head upon the hand 
he held, he burst into a mighty sobbing cry ; and so remained 
motionless for a time, his strong frame shaken by over- 
powering emotion. 

“Dear Edward, do not cry,” whispered Margaret, with 
trembling lips. “It is best so.” 

“No, no !” he cried, starting up. “It shall not be !” 

“Dear Edward, I would rather die than live as his wife,” 
said Margaret. “Dearest, I love you only. I loved you al- 
ways; only I did not know my mind. Or, rather, I knew 
it at the last, and willfully threw away my happiness. The 
good Judge warned me of him; he tried to tell me what 
would turn me against him, but I would not listen. I trifled 
with the most sacred feelings that God has given us, and 
I am justly punished. Forgive me, Edward, for causing you 
pain. I was not worthy of you. Indeed, indeed, I wasn’t, 
dear. Could I live now, knowing what I know, having suf- 


THE DREAM. 


93 


fereci what I have suffered, I might in time become worthy 
of a good man’s love.” 

He pressed his burning lips to her hand, but said no word 
in reply. 

“Call Uncle,” whispered Margaret, and, when he came, 
she smiled sweetly up into his sorrow-laden eyes. “I am 
going to die. Uncle. I know it ; I feel it. Will you forgive 
my waywardness, dear?” 

“I have nothing to forgive, Margy,” replied the Judge, 
huskily. 

“I would not listen to you, you remember? You tried to 
warn me, but I was rebellious. Dear Uncle, I am sorry. I 
know now what you wished to tell me. I have brought dis- 
grace upon my name; but my death will cleanse the stain, 
will it not. Uncle? I loved Edward all the time, as you 
said, but, oh, I was so torn by conflicting emotions, and 
we live so in our emotions, we poor, weak women, and are 
so intoxicated with happiness when they are stirred to the 
depths ! I believe I was a little mad. Where is my little 
Mama ?” she concluded, wearily. “Kiss me. Mama.” 

A languorous feeling stole over her. She closed her eyes. 
She heard her mother’s trembling cry and the frightened 
sobbing of the children; but the sound seemed far away. 
The earth seemed remote. A slight motion of her hand 
assured her of Edward’s presence. She smiled. 

“Good by, dear Edward,” she whispered, rousing herself 
to a last effort. “Remember, I loved only you. Kiss — 
Mama — Uncle — ” 

The murmur ceased. The earth was receding. Margaret 
was conscious of a rising motion. A delicious sensation of 
floating, feather-like, above the world. She was flying up- 
ward, ever upward, flying like the wind — swiftly, smoothly 
— sailing on air as light as thistledown. The earth had 


94 : 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


become a mere speck and now had vanished utterly. The 
stars seemed very near, but far, far away, millions upon 
millions of miles, it seemed, between vast rolling mountains 
of billowy fire, a golden radiance appeared which momen- 
tarily grew more and more beautiful, until, all suddenly, 
there burst upon the sight of the enraptured girl a vision of 
such wondrous beauty that she involuntarily raised her voice 
in joyous, worshipful acclaim. Hers was but one of many, 
many voices, all singing with joyous hearts a song that for 
two thousand years had sounded in the ears of men: 

^'Peace on earth, 

Good will to men.” 

Margaret sang with all her heart and gazed with all her 
eyes. Upon a throne of purest ivory sat Mary, Queen of 
Heaven. In her arms she held the infant Jesus. Ten thou- 
sand angels in purest white were gathered around ; ten thou- 
sand harps were strung; ten thousand voices rose and fell 
in glorious melody. Margaret glowed with new life and 
swiftly joined the joyous throng, treading their way upon 
a carpet of fleecy clouds, the outer grounds of heaven. 

“Peace on earth. 

Good will to men.” 

Margaret closed her eyes in an ecstasy, singing with all 
her heart and soul, and drawing near, ever nearer, to the 
Divine Child; but, lo! when she wished to look, she could 
not open her eyes. They were weighted as with lead ; she 
strained and strained, praying God to aid her weak en- 
deavors. In vain ! And now she felt herself sinking — 
down, down, ever downward. The golden music grew faint 
and ever more faint. She had proved unworthy ! She was 
returning to earth in what form, she wondered? — to be re- 


THE DREAM. 


95 


embodied in what strange shape? Oh, to join that glorious 
t ' Oh, for a chance to retrieve her lost salvation ! 

Dear God, be good to me,” prayed Margaret. 

A voice of wonderful sweetness replied to her. 

Margaret,” it said, '‘thy prayer is granted. Resume once 
more the form which erst thy spirit did inhabit; but re- 
member to use thy talents justly, so that, when called upon, 
thou mayst prove worthy to join that heavenly host. In the 
name of Him who was born this day, this reprieve is granted 
thee.” 

It ceased. Trembling in every limb, Margaret awoke — 
awoke in her own snowy bed, in her own little room in her 
mother’s cottage at Westport. 






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Part III 

THE AWAKENING 




I. 


Margaret lay for one stupefied moment, gazing around 
the familiar little room. It was broad daylight. The golden 
rays of the newly risen sun streamed broadly through the 
window, falling directly across her face, as she lay blinking 
mutely around. From a neighboring room came the shrill 
voices of the children, rejoicing in the gifts bestowed by 
Santa Claus, and in the parlor below Elizabeth was strum- 
ming softly on the piano, and Mama moving about the 
bed-chamber, was singing sweetly in time to the music : 

‘Teace on earth. 

Good will to men 

^^Mama, Mama!’^ cried Margaret, sitting up in bed, with 
both hands held out to embrace her dear little mother. “I’ve 
come back, Mama.” 

“What is it, darling?” cried Mrs. Wainwright, approach- 
ing quickly. 

Margaret threw her arms around the little woman’s neck, 
pressing the dear face convulsively to her breast. She was 
sobbing violently and trembling in every limb. 

“Are you glad to have me back. Mama?” she gasped. 
“Oh, say you are, dear ! I will be good — oh, so good !” 

“Glad to have you back, darling?” cried Mama, laughing 
soflty. “The poor dear has been dreaming again. Why, 
darling, I should die if I were to lose my beautiful Margy!” 

“I was in heaven. Mama, but I was found unworthy,” 
cried Margaret. “I was cast out, but I prayed ever so hard, 

LOFa 


100 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


and the good God heard me and sent me back to my own 
Mama.’' 

^‘There, there, there, darling, don’t cry,” cried Mama, 
employing the soothing tone she used with the smallest of 
her brood. ''Has Mama’s little girlie been dreaming again ? 
There, darling, that’s a good, sweet child ! Let me dry your 
eyes, sweetling. There, now ; there, now ; there, now ! Every- 
thing is well again, is it not, pet? Hurty cured by Mama’s 
kisses? My, my, what a time my blessed ’ittle girlie had, 
falling asleep in the parlor, sitting before the fire. Dear, 
dear! I was that surprised, darling, when I found you 
there! We were fixing the Christmas-tree in the drawing- 
room — Edward, Uncle George and I — and we didn’t get 
through till way past midnight, because we couldn’t start 
till after the children had gone to bed. And they would 
sit up, the darlings. They were determined to catch Santa 
Claus in the act, my dear. There, kiss me, pet; how the 
dear child trembles! There, darling, don’t sob so! Oh, 
those wicked, odjous dreams; they have troubled you all 
your life, my poor Margaret. Too much mind. Doctor 
Summers says.” 

"A dream,” cried Margaret, shivering. "Impossible ! 
Everything was real! I ran away from my good Mama, 
and was married, and became old and ugly and died, and 
went to heaven, and was sent back to you. Dreaming? Oh, 
no, no, no!” 

Her mind was in a mighty state of confusion. Her moth- 
er’s sweet presence, the sight of the familiar room, the recol- 
lection of similar vivid dreams in the past, all tended to 
bring home to her the truth of her mother’s words, but, oh, 
she could not accept it all at once. The dream was too 
vivid. 

"Do you love me. Mama ?” she asked, piteously. 


THE AWAKENING. 101 

Love you, darling !” cried the little mother herself, be- 
ginning to sob violently; “love my ownest, own precious, 
precious little darling baby girlie? My very first that came 
when my General was away out West, and sent twenty mes- 
sages, about, before morning, and was given leave to come 
by the President’s own hand, and stayed only from five in 
the evening until midnight, because those naughty, odjous, 
rampaging Indians got on a warpath, as soon as my Gen- 
eral’s back was turned. I was that mad, my love, and the 
General was so delighted with my own little darling, sweet 
baby girlie. And now you ask me, do I love you, Margy?” 
sobbed the little woman. 

“I know you do. Mama. Oh, I know it well; only, I like 
to hear you say it, dear. Kiss me, love. I thought I was 
dead,” she continued, plaintively. 

“Dear Margy, how awful !” 

“Does — does Edward love me, do you think. Mama? 
But, oh, no; how can he, after — oh, it was a dream — all a 
dream ! I cannot believe it ! Mama, do I look the same 
to you as — as — the last time you saw me ?” 

Mama smiled with that beautiful look of pride which 
Margaret remembered so well. She sprang up and rushed 
to the mirror, and long and earnestly gazed at her reflection 
in the glass. She was indeed the same. She was pale, to 
be sure, and her eyes looked very tired, but otherwise she 
was unchanged. Her hair was as black as night, her eyes 
shone clear and bright, her skin was soft to the touch, and 
her lips fresh and dewy. She blushed deeply, thinking of 
the kisses Felton had showered upon them in her dream. 
For it was a dream, after all ? Thank God — oh, thank God, 
forever and forever! 

“What day is this. Mama?” asked Margaret, turning 
around quickly. 


102 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“Why, it is Christmas morning, darling. Don’t you see, 
the beautiful necklace that Santa Claus brought you, Mar- 
gy? There, on the stand, love.” 

Margy looked and started back with a little cry of delight. 

“Oh, Mama, how good you are !” she cried, rushing to 
embrace the smiling little woman. “How beautiful ; how 
very beautiful !” 

vShe lifted the pretty toy from its casket; examined it 
closely, fitted it around her neck, and with great delight 
admired its beauty in the mirror; but, struck with com- 
punction in the midst of her joy, she replaced the necklace 
and carefully closed the casket. 

‘'How vain I am,” she thought. “I ought not take such 
pleasure in vain adornments now. Not now, after — oh, it 
was a dream, after all ! How very, very strange ! How 
real it seemed.” 

She thought of Felton, and a shudder of loathing con- 
vulsed her frame. It would seem then that, however unreal 
the dream, the feelings engendered by it were real enough. 
She thought of Edward with an emotion of passionate ten- 
derness which his image had never before called up. 

“How very strange!” she murmured, trying to readjust 
her mind to the actual state of things, the while her 
mother prattled. 

Was it indeed true? Had but one night intervened since 
Edward’s proposal, and Eelton’s passionate declaration? 
Oh, it was impossible — unbelievable I And yet it was true ! 
It was Christmas morning — Edward had returned on 
Christmas eve, and on Christmas eve had proposed to her. 
And he was coming to-day for his answer I Margaret 
blushed, and tingled all over at the thought. Felton, too, 
was coming; but she loathed that young man now, hated 


THE AWAKENING. 


103 


him with all her heart and soul, so strong was the revulsion 
of feeling wrought by the terrible dream. 

“We were all through, Edward and the Judge and I,” 
Mrs. Wainwright was saying, ‘‘and I was on the point of 
coming up, thinking you had gone to bed, when I saw a 
light in the parlor. I was that surprised, my dear, having 
heard that odjous, wicked, depraved w-r-r-r-e-t-c-h — whom 
you never should receive, my love- — go away hours before — 
so I went in, and, la ! there you were, huddled up in the big 
arm chair sound asleep and shivering with the cold, for the 
fire had gone quite out. I called Uncle George and Ed- 
ward—’^ 

“Oh, Mama, did Edward see me?” asked Margaret, 
blushing more and more. 

“He carried you upstairs, my love.” 

“Dear me !” cried the girl, in deep dismay. “How could 
you let him. Mama ?” 

“He pleaded so hard, darling, that I couldn’t resist him. 
George did laugh so; and Edward was so tender, and he 
told us that you had as good as owned your love for him; 
and so I gave way.” 

“Did I waken at all. Mama?” asked Margaret, smiling a 
tender little smile. 

“No, dear; not really waken, you know. Brother George 
was for waking you; but I wouldn’t have it, telling him 
what Doctor Summers had said about the danger of disturb^ 
ing you abruptly in one of your long sleeps ; once, when you 
were thirteen — you remember, Margy? — you slept twenty- 
two hours, and that night you went to sleep sitting on your 
rocking-horse, like a boy. Don’t you remember the grand 
review the President held that day ? All the veteran soldiers 
marched before him, and you were that excited all day, 
wanting to be a boy and a soldier.” 


104 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


‘‘Is it late now, Mama?” asked Margaret with a start. 
“How long did I sleep ?” 

“It is eight o’clock, my love; the children have been up 
these two hours ; they got up before daylight, the little dears, 
to see what Santa Claus had brought them.” 

“Goodness me !” murmured Margaret, “has — has Edward 
come ?” 

“Not yet, darling; but ho is coming later on to dine with 
us. And that reminds me,” continued Mrs. Wainwright, 
settling herself more firmly in her rocker. “I must go down 
this minute, and look after Dinah. Hurry, my dear, and 
dress. Or shall I send a cup of chocolate up by one of the 
girls?” 

“No, Mama, I couldn’t eat,” said Margaret, kissing her. 

“Did my ’ittle baby dirlie have naughty, wicked dreams 
again,” said the tender little woman, drawing her daughter 
into her arms once more. 

But Margaret now had in a great measure recovered her 
natural poise and dignity. She returned Jher mother’s em- 
brace tenderly, but with a total absence of that childish im- 
pulse which had so marked her demeanor but a short half 
hour ago. Mrs. Wainwright was grievously disappointed. 
The clinging helplessness of the usually rather domineering 
young lady had been very, very sweet to the little woman, 
who for long had stood somewhat in awe of her beautiful 
and accomplished daughter. She sighed a little now, and 
ever after cherished in her heart the revelation vouchsafed 
her that morning. 

“Dearest little Mama !” said Margaret, lovingly. 

“Not so little, neither,” cried Mrs. Wainwright, firing up 
“You seemed to think so awhile ago.” 

“Dear Mama, forgive me,” implored Margaret, contritely. 
“Indeed, indeed, you are a thousand thousand times wiser 


THE AWAKENING. 


105 


than I am, and better. I am always your little Margy, 
Mama, am I not ?” she said, kneeling down beside the weep- 
ing little mother. '‘You will always think of me so, dear?” 

‘Yes, darling; and I don’t mind your calling me little, 
Margy,” sobbed Mama. 

And so they kissed tenderly, and peace was once more 
restored. 

“And so I didn’t waken at all. Mama? How strange!” 
said Margaret, musingly. 

“You didn’t, to say, waken, my love; but you called me, I 
remember, while I was undressing you. Oh, Margy,” she 
added, in a confidential undertone, “did Kdward propose last 
night, darling?” 

Margaret, blushing, owned as much. 

“And you told him to come to-day ? How delightful ! I 
became engaged on Christmas, too, my love. Did you know 
that?” 

“You have often told me, dear.” 

“Are yop going to accept Edward, dear?” 

“Oh, Mama, I am not worthy of him,” burst out Mar- 
garet, suddenly giving way to tears again. 

“Well, I never!” cried the little mother, firing up in an 
instant. “I should like to hear him say so !” 

“Mama, you must not speak — nor even think harshly of 
my Edward,” protested Margaret. “I — I — love him.” 

“I told you so !” cried the little woman ; “I must go and 
tell George this instant. Now, darling, put on your very 
prettiest gown — the pink silk, dear. The lace is beautifully 
clean once more.” 

She went below, and Margaret, moving about, languidly 
completed her toilet ; she paused for long periods, and stood 
in dreamy contemplation, striving to recall the details of 


106 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


her most lifelike dream, and trying to adjust them one to 
the other and the whole to the actual circumstances. 

She had fallen asleep before the fire in the parlor, and 
all that had agitated her mind in her waking hours had 
arranged itself in a series of striking pictures, one suc- 
ceeding the other in natural sequence, each a perfectly logi- 
cal outgrowth of the one preceding. She recalled the 
Judge’s denunciation of Felton, and her own exalted con- 
ception of him, founded upon a childishly romantic idealiza- 
tion. She remembered his coming, and his passionate dec- 
laration, which now, in the new light in which he appeared 
to her, seemed altogether false and insincere. She went 
over in her mind his proposal to flee with him. She had 
half expected some such action on his part, and so had been 
in a way prepared to meet it with the strong denial dic- 
tated by that sound common sense which, since attaining 
maturity, had eventually controlled all her actions. But the 
proposal, though she rejected it, had delighted her romantic 
imagination. And, when he returned to her in her dream, 
while her imagination was in the ascendancy, she had al- 
lowed him to overcome her, and in imagination had wan- 
dered with him through a succession of strikingly realistic 
pictures. 

The long period of unconsciousness must have been occa- 
sioned by that brief interval of semi-wakefulness, when she 
was being carried to her chamber by her dear Edward, with 
the Judge standing by, laughing, no doubt, and Mama flut- 
tering behind. In her dream she was at that time at the 
minister’s house; she had just been married when her uncle 
and Edward had come stalking in. She lost that conscious- 
ness then which she had, in some degree, recovered at home. 

The second period of unconsciousness must have been due 
to a second moment of wakefulness, though she had no rec- 


THE AWAKENING. 


107 


ollection of it, or it may have been due to a moment of 
actual cessation of mental activity brought on by her imagi- 
nary condition. How very, very strange it all was ! 

Pensively musing she finished dressing, and with a last 
glance into the mirror, which occasioned at once a blush at 
the thought of Edward and a shudder at the picture called 
up of faded beauty and wasted features, she went below. 
She was met by her rejoicing little sisters, one and all hold- 
ing up the treasures with which good Santa Claus had re- 
membered them. Even the skeptical Katydid could not re- 
sist the alluring beauty of a glittering bracelet, combined 
with a charming new picture-book, and the identical sled 
and the skates which she had longed for. Katydid was very 
grave. Though rejoicing inwardly over her new posses- 
sions, she could not shake off a suspicion that, for a gentle- 
man who visited but once a year, Santa Claus possessed a 
strange knowledge of her character and general sporting 
proclivities. 

Laura and Alice had each received a doll, with many 
smaller toys; Jennie was rejoicing in a ring of great beauty, 
and a number of books ; and Elizabeth had been remembered 
with a roll of music and a toilet set of regal magnificence. 
In addition, the stockings which all had hung in the chim- 
ney were found full of goodies. The little ones gathered 
around Margaret, the while she daintily nibbled at breakfast 
and eagerly displayed their gifts for her admiration. Katy- 
did solemnly exhibited her necklace and mutely indicated 
the sled and skates. Her heart was too full for words. 

“Well, Katydid,'"' said Margaret, kissing her warmly. “I 
hope you believe in Santa Claus now?” 

Katydid said nothing. 

“I do, Margy,” cried Alice, rejoicingly. “Santa Claus is 
a dear.” 


108 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“We Stayed awake, we did,” shrieked Laura; “but he 
didn’t come!” 

“He came while you were asleep, of course,” said Mar> 
garet. 

“I’m going to ask Yedward, I am,” announced Katydid. 

Margaret laughed softly, and again kissed the stanch little 
maid. Then went in search of the Judge, whom she found 
in a little den which had been her father’s study. He was 
writing, but he laid aside the pen at sight of Margaret, who 
took his handsome head in her arms and kissed it. 

“Good morning. Uncle,” she said, shaking him playfully. 
“You caught me asleep last night, didn’t you. Your Honor?’* 

“Ha, ha! A strange place to go asleep in, my dear,” 
laughed the Judge. “How did it happen?” 

“I — I don’t know,” replied Margaret, drawing up a rocker 
and sitting down beside him so that she could rest her arm 
upon the broad arm of the chair. “It was a day of much 
mental excitement and emotion. Uncle. Edward returning 
suddenly, and — and all, I was utterly tired out.” 

“Oh,” said the Judge, humorously, “I thought perhaps 
young Felton had proved such tiresome company that you 
went asleep. I remember him as a deadly serious young 
fellow.” 

“You wicked Uncle! Did you see him last night, dear?” 

“Not I.” 

“Oh !” exclaimed Margaret, faintly. This did not tall}- 
with the dream, in which he had called upon Felton, with 
Edward, to warn him against trespassing further. Mar- 
garet somehow had had faith that this one little item ai 
least was grounded in prophetic truth. “What time did 
Edward go away?” she asked. 

“He went away early in the evening, but returned later 
to help your mother and me with the Christmas tree. I was 


THE AWAKENING. 


109 


surprised at him, leaving you so early. You didn’t quarrel, 
I hope, my dear!” 

‘‘Quarrel with my Edward!” exclaimed Margaret, brid- 
ling indignantly. ‘The very idea !” 

“Oh, he’s my Edward now, is he?” cried the Judge, 
chuckling. 

Margaret, blushing, covered her face with her hands, 
peeping at him through parted fingers as he sat laughing 
all over. 

“Why, I’m delighted to hear it, Margaret. A fine, earnest, 
upright, vigorous young man, my dear ; a man of ideals and 
of high character.” 

‘‘Thank you. Your Elonor,” replied Margaret, rising and 
dropping him a courtesy. There was a pretty color in hei 
cheeks now, but her eyes had lost none of their thoughtful 
gravity. “Uncle, tell me about Mr. Felton,” she said, coax- 
ingly. 

“It isn’t necessary, my dear, now, is it? My Edward — ” 

“Please tel! me, dear. I just must know. Was he tried 
before you for — for murder?” 

Judge Wainwright stared. 

“Great thunder !” he gasped. “What put such a mad no- 
tion in your head, Margy? Oh, your mother’s talk, I sup> 
pose ! Ha, ha, ha, ha ! What an idea, my dear. A mur- 
derer ! Do you suppose for one moment that I would have 
tolerated his presence in this house, if — and yet,” the good 
judge paused suddenly and gravely regarded the abashed 
young lady,” and yet, Margy, he certainly is the cause of 
one suicide, and if that is not murder from a moral stand- 
point, I do not know what is. It was in his student days, 
my dear; and it is a story which I do not care to recapit- 
ulate.” 

“Was it — was she a — a girl. Uncle?” gasped Margaret. 


110 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“Yes; but how — ? However, it does not matter. He 
broke his mother’s heart — ” 

“Uncle, was she the woman you loved ?” 

“Great thunder !” growled the Judge ; “what a question !“ 

“Was she. Uncle? Please tell me.” 

“No; of course not.” 

Margaret once more was keenly disappointed. 

“There, darling. I’ll be good now,” she promised, kissing 
the good Judge, and smoothing out his frown with a gentle 
hand. “Will you do me a favor. Your Honor?” 

“Gladly, my dear.” 

“I am expecting Mr. Felton some time to-day, dear, 
though he may not come before to-night,” said Margaret, 
blushing rosily. “Will you receive him. Uncle, when he 
comes, and tell him from me that I’m sorry, but my answer 
is, ‘No!’ Will you be so kind, Uncle dear?” 

“Whew i” whistled the Judge. “That is rather an — er — 
unusual proceeding, isn’t it, Margy ?” 

Margaret owned as much, but pleaded with him so ear- 
nestly that he promised, though conditionally. 

“Should he refuse to accept this message as final — and 
what young man of spirit would so accept it? — ^you must 
come and answer in person, Margy.” 

Margaret promised, but earnestly besought him to be very 
firm and emphatic. 

“I’m afraid, my dear, you are a little coward,” said Judge 
Wainwright, smiling. 

Margaret hung her head, blushing so prettily and looking 
so weak and helpless in her maidenly confusion that the 
chivalrous Judge vowed that not only would he deliver her 
answer, but force the persistent youth to accept it as final. 


II. 


Margaret left the Judge and once more returned to her 
chamber above stairs. A small coal fire glowed in the fire- 
place, for the weather was cold without. Many inches of 
snow had fallen in the night, which the wind now was 
busily blowing in mounds and drifts along the highways and 
byways of the town. Drawing up a chair Margaret sat down 
and once more fell to musing, with her eyes bent in deep 
thought upon the glowing coals. 

She felt that Mr. Felton would insist on seeing her, and she 
dreaded this meeting with a dread akin to horror. He could 
not but feel that she loved him after what had passed between 
them, and how would she account for her surprising change 
of mind ? This question, though it occasioned the girl some 
natural uneasiness, was not the real reason that underlay 
her aversion to meeting Felton. She was not obliged to 
account to him or to any one for any change of mind, being 
a woman. Nor did the thought of rejecting him move her; 
indeed, she would have found a certain satisfaction in 
haughtily declining his proposal. No, nothing of this kind 
affected her. Her real reason lay in the loathing she felt 
of him, because of the terrible humiliation which he had 
occasioned her; he had shamed her, scorned her, dragged 
her into the gutter, and she detested him. Oh, it did not 
matter that it was all a dream; the mind of the girl was 
not in the least logical where her feelings were in question. 
The dream was too vivid, the loathing engendered too real, 
and oh, the burning shame she felt at the thought of her 


112 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


dear Edward ! Margaret blushed and tingled from head to 
foot, thinking of how untrue she had been to him in spirit. 
He had been true to her even in her dream ! 

The girl did not realize that the respective parts played 
by her two lovers were in exact accordance with the posi- 
tion held by them in her mind. She had trusted Edward, 
had believed sincerely in him, and in his love for her; she 
had distrusted Felton, though her romantic fancy was cap- 
tivated by his charming person. Given a loose rein to an 
ardent imagination normally kept under firm control, they 
would naturally take their respective places in a drama such 
as the one unrolled before her mental vision. Margaret had 
not the least doubt in the world, however, that, had the 
dream been an actual living experience; had she, in very 
truth, allowed Felton to prevail over her last evening, the 
end would have been precisely the same. Felton would 
have deserted her at the first sign of waning beauty. Ed- 
ward would have forgiven her and cherished her to the 
death. Thinking of all this and musing upon various vivid 
details, such as the grotesque appearance of the six broad- 
bearded gnomes, the time passed swiftly away. The fire 
had burned low, and the sun was sinking toward the west 
when Margaret was startled from her reverie by a ring 
below. She started up, blushing and tingling all over. Sup- 
posing it should be Edward? She rushed to the mirror. 
Oh, oh, oh! She could not meet him now. Her cheeks 
burned like fire, her eyes shone with a liquid light that was 
the very quintessence of tender love, she trembled in every 
limb. A dimpling smile broke over her face ; it was a charm- 
ing picture — so charming that Margaret was sure, perfectly 
sure — it could not be Edward. She would not dare meet 
him looking such a horrid fright ! 

But, oh, if it should be he! She waited with a wildly 


THE AWAKENING. 


113 


beating heart. She heard hurrying footsteps in the hall 
below ; the door was opened ; but no word spoken. It could 
not be Edward. Margaret felt herself growing cold! It 
was it must be — Felton. The visitor entered; there came 
an indistinct murmur of voices. It was Felton. Margaret 
sank trembling upon the bed. She did not realize until that 
moment of bitter disappointment how much she wanted 
Edward. She wanted to hear his deep, tender voice; she 
wanted to cry out her heart upon his shoulder. She wanted 
to feel his strong arms supporting her ; kneeling to him, she 
wished to pour out her heart, in humble confession, and beg 
forgiveness for her wayward dreams. 

“Margy, dear,” said Mrs. Wainwright, coming hurriedly 
in at this moment, “Mr. Felton is below. He says he is 
here by appointment. Is he, Margy?” 

“Yes — no!” cried Margy, agitatedly. “Send him away, 
Mama, I don’t want to see him.” 

“Then you need not !” cried Mrs. Wainwright, doughtily. 
“I ll soon send him about his business, the wicked, odjous, 
conceited wretch !” 

“Wait, Mama,” cried Margaret. “Don’t say anything to 
— to — to — hurt him, dear. Tell Uncle George; he has prom- 
ised to see him for me. Please, darling Mama.” 

Mama nodded sagely, and hurried away. Margaret 
waited with a wildly beating heart. Oh, if Edward were 
only here — her dear, kind, fearless Edward, who possessed 
the quality of infusing courage into this most timid of 
maidens. Margaret felt that, with Edward by her side, she 
would face' a wilderness of Feltons; but, alone — never! 

In the meantime, Mr. Felton had been shown into the 
parlor where, last night, he had been entertained by Mar- 
garet. He wandered about rather aimlessly, taking up and 
examining various little ornaments. He had not removed 


114 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


his greatcoat, and carried his hat and cane in his hand, as 
if he proposed but to stay a minute or two. He looked 
rather pale, and was clearly somewhat agitated. He had 
made the circuit of the room three or four times, when he 
suddenly became aware of the fact that he was not alone. 
Little Katydid had slipped in quietly, and now sat perched 
upon a piano-stool, regarding him thoughtfully. Wishing 
to do by others as she wished to be done by when her 
time came to receive gentlemen callers. Katydid had come 
in singly with the purpose of entertaining Margy’s visitor 
until Margy herself should be able to come down. Katydid 
was but seven, but Katydid was already looking into the 
future, viewing with a species of grim satisfaction the day 
when she would have a young man under her thumb, 

“How de do?” said Katydid, politely. 

Felton nodded. He was not fond of children, and rarely 
noticed them. 

“Nice day,” continued Katydid, genteelly. 

Felton did not reply, but glowered down at her ill- 
naturedly. A pause. Katydid looked up at him with un- 
impaired gravity, clasping her hands delicately and sitting 
in an attitude of rigid and uncompromising politeness. 

“I don’t like you,” continued Katydid, with an air of one 
imparting an important bit of information, for the bestow- 
ing of which she expected due acknowledgment. 

“Glad of it,” replied Felton, shortly. 

Katydid started, and for a time sat pondering this as- 
tounding retort with much inward heat and agitation. 

“Oh, indeed!” said Katydid, with her little nose thrust 
high in the air ; “oh, indeed 1” 

That was all. There are times when the most accom- 
plished lady finds herself at a loss for a retort sufficiently 


THE AWAKENING. 


115 


blistering to fit the occasion. Such was Katydid’s predic- 
ament now. 

Exactly,” responded Felton, bowing sarcastically. 

“My Mama don’t like you, neither,” said Katydid, scath- 
ingly. 

“Glad to hear it,” replied this insulting young man, once 
more bowing ironically. 

Katydid arose in all her might and stamped her little 
foot. Oh, for something to say ! — something burning, blis- 
tering, scorching — with which to wither this presumptuous 
young man ! 

“Margy hates you!” screamed Katydid, and scored! 

Felton started and changed color. Once more Katydid 
drew herself up to all her majestic height of three foot 
nothing, and, with her little nose in the air, strutted haugh- 
tily from the room, thus retiring with all the honors of war ; 
and leaving behind an exceedingly wrathful and helpless 
young man. 

“The infernal brat !” he muttered. “I’d like to wring her 
neck. Where can Margaret be? It can’t be that she — 
Ah, how do you do. Judge?” 

Judge Wainwright had come in from the sitting-room, 
looking somewhat ill at ease. His great florid face was 
dyed a deeper tinge of red ; he was tugging nervously at his 
heavy mustache. Clearly the good Judge did not like his 
mission. 

The men shook hands — the Judge somewhat effusively, 
Felton stiffly. His bearing towards the various members of 
Margaret’s family had always been frigid, haughty, re- 
served, if not absolutely hostile. 

“Beautiful day?” observed the Judge, awkwardly. 

“Overhead — yes.” 

“Cold, don’t you think?” continued the Judge, elaborately. 


116 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


“Yes ; rather.” 

“Plenty of snow, eh?” 

“Is Miss Wainwright at home?” asked Felton, brusquely. 

“Ahem!” The Judge cleared his throat with exceeding 
care, coughing delicately behind his hand, and replied, “Yes; 
oh yes ; she’s at home.” 

“Then may I ask — ” began Felton. 

“But she is feeling somewhat indisposed,” interrupted 
the Judge, hurriedly. 

A feminine voice was distinctly heard at this moment, 
coming from behind the portieres. 

“George !” it said, admonishingly. 

The Judge started. Felton looked hard at him, and from 
him to the portieres. 

“What’s up?” he demanded, sharply. 

“The fact is, Mr. Felton,” said the Judge, taking the 
plunge, but speaking steadily, now that it was taken; “the 
fact is that Margaret does not wish to see you.” 

“Eh? Has not my presence been announced to her?” 

“Yes; most assuredly.” 

“And she declines to see me?” asked Felton, smiling in- 
credulously. 

“Exactly.” 

“Pardon me. Judge; I don’t believe it,” said Felton, coollv. 

“Sir!” roared the Judge, swelling prodigiously. 

“I don’t believe it, I repeat,” reiterated Felton, as 
brusquely as before. “Where is she ?” 

“Young man,” thundered the irate old gentleman; “do 
you think for one moment that I would deceive you?” 

“No, no. Judge,” replied Felton, with some moderation of 
his offensive manner. “Spare me a lecture, I beg. I mean 
merely you have been deceived.” 

“Sir, the young lady came to me in person and asked me 


THE AWAKENING. 


117 


to meet you when you came. She was expecting you, it 
appears.” 

Just so,” bowed Felton. “She was expecting me. She 
was to give me an answer to a question I propounded last 
night. It was a very important question. Judge; nothing 
less than a proposal of marriage; and I know you will 
pardon me if I refuse to accept as final this to me unaccount- 
able proceeding.” 

“Your exception, sir, is well taken,” replied the Judge, 
majestically. “Yet it was in reference to that very question 
that she besought my co-operation. Her answer to it — if 
you will pardon me, is— er— Great thunder !” exploded the 
Judge; “it’s No!” 

“I don’t believe it,” said Felton, curtly. 

The good Judge swelled and swelled, and would undoubt- 
edly have exploded into a tremendous outburst of rage had 
not Mrs. Wainwright at this juncture come hurriedly 
through the portieres. 

“You wicked, odjous, conceited young w-r-r-r-e-t-c-h !” 
cried the intrepid little woman, doughtily confronting the 
insolent young man. “It is true, as the Judge says. Mar- 
garet does not want to see you. It is also true that her 
answer is ‘No !’ Do your hear, w-r-r-e-t-c-h ! N-no-o-o ! 
No, no, no, no, no !” shrieked the little woman, stamping her 
foot in a rage “A thousand times no ! And once again. No ! 
Do you hear? N-no-o-o-o! You’re not deaf, I hope? She 
told me only this morning that she loved Mr. Carlton and 
would marry him, and him alone.” 

‘‘Bah !” replied Felton, regarding her through half-closed 
lids, and speaking in his most offensive manner. He had 
always ignored Mrs. Wainwright, or had treated her like a 
kind of overgrown child; hence the little woman’s wrath. 
“A pack of lies!” he said, standing with legs spread wide. 


118 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


and his slender cane pressed across his waist, grasped at the 
ends in both his hands. “Fll take my answer from Margaret 
alone, d’ye hear? From Margaret’s own lips, or not at all !” 

He sat himself doggedly down. Mrs. Wainwright gasped 
and stared and gasped again. 

“You infamous, horrible, insolent, conceited, odjous 
PUPPY!” cried she; and fairly rushed at him with all 
her fingers spread out like talons ready to grasp him. 

Felton aro§e in evident alarm and retreated behind his 
chair, throwing up his cane with a movement wholly natural, 
but to the infuriated little woman, it seemed as if he was 
about to strike her. She started back; the Judge, bounding 
forward, caught her in his arms, and held her struggling. 

“Let me at him!” she cried, weeping with rage. “I’ll 
spoil his beauty, the horrid w-r-r-etch 1” 

“Quiet, Flora,” said the Judge, soothingly. “Compose 
yourself, my dear.” 

Felton smiled sourly. 

“I’d like to own you for about ten minutes !” he said, be- 
tween clenched teeth. 

“Ah, would you?” 

“Felton,” said the Judge, interrupting him, sternly, as he 
was about to reply, “take care, will you? You’ve said quite 
enough. Flora, send for Margy. It is no more than right 
that he should see her.” 

“He shall not!” cried Mrs, Wainwright, hotly. 

“Come, Flora, be sensible,” he urged. “She must answer 
him in person, and so I told her, the little coward. No ques- 
tion is ever settled until it is settled right ! Call Margy !” 

Mrs. Wainwright looked undecided. Felton folded his 
arms composedly and looked around. At that moment, 
while the little woman stood wavering, a sharp ring without 
startled them all. 


THE AWAKENING. 


119 


“It is Edward!” cried Mrs. Wainwright, laughing hys- 
terically. '‘Nozv, you horrid, odjous, conceited — ” 

But she already was in the hall, and the rest was swal- 
lowed up in a tremendous hubbub of laughing, shrieking, 
screaming children, who crowded around the newcomer, all 
eager to recount the glories of the day. 

“Please come in, Edward,” said the little woman, hur- 
riedly pushing away the little ones. “Go into the sitting- 
room, darlings ; Mama will come.” 

And she dragged the bewildered young statesman into 
the parlor and closed the door. Mr. Carlton opened wide 
his eyes at sight of the Judge and Felton facing each other, 
the one sitting with the utmost composure, staring straight 
before him, and the other standing rigidly erect, the pic- 
ture of angry emotion. 

“Here he is, George,” cried the little woman, jubilantly. 
“Here’s our Edward !” 

“What’s up?” said Edward, glancing around in surprise. 

“This wretch insists on seeing Margy, and Margy doesn’t 
want to see him, so she doesn’t. Please make him go ’way, 
Edward dear.” 

Edward dear drew back, coloring and shaking his head 
most decidedly. The little woman looked surprised and 
hurt. The Judge, greatly enjoying the confusion in another 
which, in himself, had occasioned such distress, chuckled 
hoarsely. Felton smiled bitterly. 

“Why not send for Peggy?” said Edward. 

“Here I am. Mama,” said a voice behind them, and Mar- 
garet, parting the portieres, advanced into the room. Mama 
gave a little scream and hastened to meet her daughter. Mr. 
Felton rose to his feet. Margaret paused in the center of 
the group and stood with downcast eyes. Her cheeks were 
rosy with blushes, but otherwise she looked perfectly com- 


120 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


posed. The good Judge marveled. She did not once lift 
her eyes to Edward’s face, nor did he come forward to 
greet her; rather did he retreat a step or two; feeling that 
he had no right at this moment to come between his dear 
girl and his rival. The Judge relieved the situation. 

‘T conveyed your message to Mr. Felton, Margy,” he 
said, stepping forward and taking her hand in his, '‘but he 
declines to accept my word as final. I do not blame him, 
with such a prize at stake. Answer him, my dear. Be 
brave !” 

He led her a step forward, bowed over her hand in courtly 
fashion, and retired a step or two, drawing his protesting 
sister-in-law with him. Mr. Felton stepped forward grace- 
fully and sought to take her hand. She put it behind her, 
shuddering from head to foot. 

“Margaret,” he said, in reproachful surprise. “May I see 
you in private for a minute?” he pleaded 

“The very idea !” sputtered Mrs. Wainwright. 

“Fve come for my answer, Margaret,” continued Felton. 
“I hoped to see you alone, but it seems — ” casting around a 
glance of stinging rebuke, “that this is not to be. So be it. 
I will receive my answer here, and if it is what I hope it 
will be, Margaret, be sure there is none here who will stand 
in my way.” 

Edward tingled to the tips of his fingers. He felt that 
he ought to retire; but he was simply rooted to the spot, 
hanging with heart and soul on Margaret’s trembling lips. 
Never had she seemed so beautiful, so altogether lovable and 
desirable in his eyes, as she stood, with blushing cheeks 
and downcast eyes. 

“Do not be frightened, Margaret,” said Felton, softly; 
“doubtless if you expressed a wish, we might be given a 
few moments alone together.” 


THE AWAKENING. 


121 


“It is not necessary,” said Margaret, clearly. 

“Ah !” he replied, coloring high and flashing a triumphant 
glance at Carlton. “Give me my answer, Margaret; the 
answer you promised me to-day.” 

“The answer is — No !” said Margaret in a steady voice. 

There was no expression of regret; the girl did not 
even look at him. 

“No !” she said, and turned her graceful head — the shame- 
less creature! — and gazed full at Edward, blushing and 
dimpling adorably. It was more than flesh and blood could 
stand. Edward held out his arms. One look she cast at 
Felton — a look in which was concentrated all the horror and 
loathing called forth by her dream — and rushed into Ed- 
ward's arms I 

His greatcoat swallowed her up ; he clasped her trembling 
form, and gazed across at Felton as a lion might at a jackal. 

Mrs. Wainwright jumped straight up and down, uttering 
little, ecstatic screams. The Judge tugged at his mustache 
and muttered : 

“Great thunder I” 

Poor Felton looked dumbfounded. He had been certain of 
her answer, and no doubt had made all arrangements for 
the elopement he had planned. When last he had seen Mar- 
garet, she had seemed altogether yielding, and, having no 
clue to what had transpired in the interval, he could in no 
way account for this sudden astounding change. He could 
not believe that this innocent, timid, trusting girl had led 
him on designedly for no other purpose than to insult him 
thus publicly. No; she was by nature sincere and open- 
hearted — she Imd loved him, he was sure. She had turned 
from him in loathing, had thrown herself upon his rival's 
breast, and now lay in his arms sobbing and clinging to him 
with both arms around his neck! Carlton met his furious 


122 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


glance steadily. With a gesture of rage, the young man 
whirled around and strode from the room and from the 
house. 

Judge Wainwright took his sister’s hand in his, and they 
retired softly, leaving the lovers alone with their happiness. 


III. 


The children were gathered in the sitting-room, discussing 
in awed whispers the battle in progress in the parlor, when 
Mama came dancing in on the Judge’s arm with a face so 
radiant and a manner so buoyant that the little ones imme- 
diately began crowing and dancing in joyous accompani- 
ment. Mama caught up Laura and kissed her; the others 
gathered around, clamoring for a like favor. Katydid alone, 
who did nothing quite like her sisters, held aloof and jeal- 
ously eyed the heavy draperies, which separated her from 
her adored Yedward. It was getting late, and Mama, when 
she had worked off a little superfluous enthusiasm, went 
bustling into the kitchen to see about dinner, which in honor 
of the day and the occasion she determined should be as 
elaborate as in the good General’s time. She had but two 
servants — Dinah and Nurse Julia — and was frequently 
obliged herself to take a hand in household duties. 

The children returned to their toys, which, as yet, had 
lost none of their delightful novelty. Katydid waited a 
long time, sitting quite silent with her hands clasped before 
her, and her frowning eyes bent upon the screening curtains. 
Nothing happened ; not a sound came from the parlor. 
Katydid arose, desperately resolved to have a peep. She 
was very indignant with Margy for keeping Yedward to 
herself so long. She glanced cautiously around; the Judge 
had retired to his den ; her sisters were deeply interested in 
their new dolls. She advanced resolutely, and with a cau- 
tious hand parted the portieres and started back with a gasp. 


124 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


Once more she looked. Yes, there could be no doubt about 
it ! 

Yedward and Margy were sitting together upon the sofa; 
Margy’s arms were around Yedward’s neck, Margy's head 
was pillowed on Yedward’s breast; Yedward was holding 
Margy in close embrace, gazing with soulful glances into 
Margy’s eyes, and now — even as she looked — Yedward bent 
down — and — and — and — yes, kissed Margy’s lips ! Katydid 
gasped again, and, letting fall the curtains, retreated with 
some precipitation. For full five minutes she sat pondering 
the astounding things which she had seen; and the longer 
she pondered the greater grew her indignation. So. This 
was what Margy was doing! Good gracious! Katydid 
would like to see the young man who would dare to kiss 
her. Only wait until she had a young man of her own ! He 
would have to kneel to her ! Yes, indeed! Worthless crea- 
tures all, who could not even keep their noses clean ! And 
Margy — her own sister Margy actually permitted — nay, en- 
couraged — Yedward to kiss her! To be sure it was Yed- 
ward, but Katydid’s ideas of propriety were extreme for one 
of her tender years. 

Burning with indignation. Katydid rose and plunged 
headlong into the parlor, startling the lovers from their 
tender embrace. Katydid confronted the guilty pair with 
blazing eyes. 

“Well, I must say I am surprised,” said Katydid, speaking 
in a severe voice the while her little nose was elevated at an 
angle utterly out of keeping with nature’s designs. “Margy, 
I’m surprised at such unseemly conduct! Letting Yedward 
kiss you !” 

“Hello, Katydid !” cried Yedward in a conciliatory voice 
and manner. “How about Santa Claus, eh?” 

This was begging the question ; but Katydid overlooked 


THE AWAKENING. 


125 


it m her interest in that far-famed personage whose exist- 
ence she doubted. 

Theie ain t no Santa Claus/’ she declared, combatively. 

“Well !” said Yedward, raising both hands in horrified ex- 
postulation, “didn’t I meet him last night driving across the 
roofs.” 

“What were you doing on the roofs, Yedward?” asked 
Katydid, suspiciously. 

“I was on the ground, of course. We talked together for 
half an hour — such a cheery, rosy, good-humored old gentle- 
man, Peggy! He asked particularly about you. Katydid. 
Said he had a sled and a pair of skates which he was think- 
ing of leaving for you ; but was in some doubt whether they 
would please you, as your letter to him was delayed.” 

“Did he say that!” cried Katydid, excitedly. “Why, I 
wroted it all by myself.” 

Katydid paused, blushing. 

“Oh, you did write then !” cried Margy, laughingly. 

“Of course,” said Yedward, quickly, %ut her letter was 
delayed. I told him that a sled and a pair of skates were 
exactly what you wanted. He said to make sure of pleasing 
you he would also leave a bracelet and a picture-book.” 

Katydid looked thoughtful, but would not surrender all 
in a moment. 

“Was he driving eight reindeers?” she asked, guardedly. 

“Yes,” nodded Yedward. 

“And he asked about me?” 

Yedward bowed. 

“Did he call me Katydid, or — ?” Katydid paused omi- 
nously. 

“No,” replied Yedward, decidedly. “He said Catherine !” 

“Did he?” cried Katydid, brightening. “Really and truly, 
Yedward ?” 


12G 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


‘‘Really and truly. Your full name is kept in the good 
book, you know — Catherine Goodwin Wainwright !” 

“So it is \” said Katydid, nodding. “Fm so glad ! I don’t 
mind you kissing Margy, Yedward,” she added, graciously. 

“No? Then may I kiss her now?” asked Yedward, once 
more clasping his sweetheart. 

Katydid drew herself up haughtily. 

“In my presence!” she cried. “Well, I never!” and 
thrusting her little nose in the air once more, she strutted 
out. 

Margaret and Edward followed shortly, and the gifts were 
duly exhibited for Yedward’s inspection. Mrs. Wainwright 
announced dinner presently, and they gathered in a body 
around the festive board. 

The dinner was a merry one. Mr. Carlton sat beside his 
sweetheart, and from that point of vantage defied with bale- 
ful glances the coffee-colored Dinah, whose attentions to his 
adored he repudiated with such exceeding vigor that Dinah 
presently withdrew in a dudgeon. Whereupon he promptly 
took upon himself the task of attending to his darling’s 
wants. He was the life and soul of the party. He kept up 
the ball of conversation with Mrs. Wainwright with one 
hand, so to speak, cracked jokes at the girls, exchanged hu- 
morous remarks with the jolly Judge, and told droll stories 
apropos of every article of food on the table. 

The fish which followed the soup recalled to Yedward an 
ancient sea bass of his acquaintance. This strange fish, it 
seemed, lived in the vicinity of Sandy Hook, and was to be 
seen in fine weather sporting an eye-glass and smoking a big 
black pipe. Occasionally, when the weather was very hot, it 
carried a pink parasol, and in winter appeared on roller 
skates, with a patch over one eye. 


THE AWAKENING. 


127 


“WeVe got turkey for dinner, Yedward,” announced 
Laura at this juncture. 

“I know,” replied Yedward ; ''I met him out walking last 
evening — ” 

“Yedward !” screamed Katydid, warningly. 

“Oh, very well,” said Yedward, with an air of injury; “if 
you don’t want to hear about it, all right. I only wanted 
to tell you of the conversation we had, that’s all.” 

“Tell us ; do, do tell us,” cried Alice, beseechingly. 

“Well,” pursued Yedward, smiling benignly across at the 
glowering Katydid. “Mr. Turkey was out walking, as I 
say, carrying a cane and wearing a long frock coat, and a 
high silk hat. He was smoking, too, a big black cigar — ” 

“Yedward,” screamed Katydid, brandishing her spoon in 
a threatening manner. “It’s a story, so ’tis. Margy, I’m sur- 
prised that you will let your beau talk so ! Fd shake him, I 
would !” 

Katydid knew a lady’s rights, you see. 

“Oh, very well,” said Yedward, resignedly, while the 
Judge roared and Mama crowed with much spasmodic glee. 
“Only the turkey said something, and you’ll never know 
what it was now.” 

“Oh, Yedward, tell us, do,” pleaded Jennie, while Alice 
and Laura stretched out their little hands and shrieked in 
huge delight at the image of the strutting turkey. 

Katydid gazed solemnly across at the joker and looked 
disdainfully at her clamoring sisters; but the haunting 
thought of what that wonderful turkey might have said was 
too much for her. 

“What did the turkey say, Yedward?” she asked, suc- 
cumbing suddenly. 

“I’m not going to tell,” said Yedward, sulkily. 


128 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


^‘Please, please, please, Yedward !” coaxingly cried the 
eager girls. 

“Well,” resumed Yedward, reluctantly, “I came up be- 
hind him, and — ” 

“Oh, oh, oh, oh !” shrieked Katydid, pointing an accusing 
finger at him. “You said before that you met him; now 
you say that you came up behind him. Story-teller, story- 
teller, story-teller !” 

“For shame, Katy,” said Mama, reprovingly. 

“But you see. Katydid,” pleaded Yedward, desperately. 
“I did come up behind him, because he was coming this way ; 
but I met him, too, seeing that, if I hadn’t, I couldn’t have 
talked to him at all. I appeal to the Judge.” 

“Katydid’s objection sustained!” shouted the Judge. 

“Oh, very well,” said Yedward, looking sulky again. 

“What did he say?” demanded Katy, severely. 

“I said to him, ‘Good evening.’ 

“ ‘Good evening, sir,’ he replied, politely. (Turkeys are 
always polite, you know.) ‘Where are you going, my pretty 
_er— sir?’ I said— ” 

“ ‘I’m going a-milking, sir,” she said,’ interrupted Alice, 
clapping her hands. 

“No, Alice,” said Yedward, gravely; “this turkey, you see, 
was a gentleman turkey. “Well,” I said, “where are you 
going, sir?’ and what do you think Mr. Turk said?” 

Yedward paused impressively. Breathless interest. Even 
the skeptical Katydid hung upon the narrator’s lips. 

“He said,” continued Yedward, holding up his hand to 
command their close attention. ‘Sir' he said, proudly ; ‘Mrs. 
Wainwright has invited me to her Christmas dinner' ; and,” 
added Yedward, as Dinah came in, bearing the holiday bird 
on a huge platter, “here he is !” 

Goodness ! The little ones gazed with awed glances into 


THE AWAKENING. 


129 


each other’s eyes, then burst all suddenly into a shriek of 
laughter at the notion of a turkey being invited to dinner to 
be eaten. Katydid was silenced, but clearly not convinced. 
She sat smiling a superior smile of mingled wisdom and in- 
credulity. 

A roast of beef brought sorrowful tears to Yedward’s 
eyes; it reminded him so of the other parts, which he had 
seen hanging in a butcher’s stall that very day, crying out 
for the missing members. Laura here became quite lachry- 
mose, and Alice sobbed audibly, but Katydid remained ada- 
mantine, and so throughout the entire dinner. The potatoes 
he was sure, winked at him with their numerous eyes. He 
professed to hear voices issuing from the huge mince pie 
crying, “Beware!” and the great frosted cake, he declared, 
pleaded tearfully for mercy. And, while talking in this 
strain with a solemn countenance, he played all sorts of droll 
pranks inadvertently as it were; offering the vinegar when 
cream was wanted; proffering the salt for sugar; substitut- 
ing a glass of water for little Laura’s mug of milk, somewhat 
to the astonishment and indignation of that little maid; 
reaching absently for Katydid’s little nose under the impres- 
sion that it was some kind of luscious fruit, and so on and so 
forth. The little ones laughed themselves into a state of ex- 
haustion. Katydid, who long ago had taken her dear Yed- 
ward into favor again, regarded him with loving glances. 
The Judge roared unreservedly, and Mrs. Wainwright 
bounded about in her chair like an animated rubber ball. 
Even prim little Elizabeth, looking down from her lofty 
height of sixteen years, could not keep a straight face. Mar- 
garet did not laugh, being far too deeply in love for mirth, 
but she smiled tenderly through it all; and when, towards 
the end, Edward’s hand dropped out of sight, her own 
strayed down somehow and found firm lodgment there. 


130 


THE HEART OF A ROSE. 


This innocent manoeuvre did not escape the lynx-eyed 
Katydid, however; she promptly pointed an accusing finger 
at the spooning pair. 

‘‘Mama, Mama,” she cried, “they're holding hands under 
the table.” 

The jolly Judge exploded with such a tremendous roar at 
this that he was fairly lifted from his chair. Margaret, blush- 
ing deeply, sought to withdraw her hand, but Edward held 
it firmly, and before them all kissed the blushing girl. Katy- 
did gasped. 

“Peggy belongs to me now. Katydid,” said Yedward in his 
deepest tones. “Mama gave her to me for a Christmas gift.” 

“Oh, oh, oh, oh !” shrieked the little ones in chorus. 

Elizabeth started up, kindling with unwonted enthusiasm, 
and lovingly embraced her happy sister. The others came 
clamoring around for a kiss. These little maidens — heaven 
knows how ! — one and all knew the meaning of Yedward’s 
words. Katydid was the last to seek her sister’s arms ; but 
of all the sisters she was the most deeply moved. She cried 
with all her little heart and soul, and meekly surrendered 
her quivering little mouth to Yedward’s kiss. 

“Isn’t it delightful!” cried Mama, bobbing up and down 
in great joy. “I, too, was engaged to my dear General on 
Christmas Day !” 

And she forthwith proceeded to give a detailed account 
of that momentous occurrence, in the course of which it 
transpired that, had she not become engaged to her dear 
General at that particular time, there would have been no 
Margy now to become engaged to Edward, in the which 
event there also would have been no Elizabeth, no Jennie, 
no Alice, no Katydid, no Laura, to gather around that festive 
board in joyous celebration; the sum of all of which was 
that all their present joy and happiness was due to Mama’s 


THE AWAKENING. 


131 


surprising forethought in accepting the dear General’s pro- 
posal of marriage on Christmas Day, twenty years before. 

This fact agreeably established, the little woman rose up 
and sailed away with much majesty, while the happy family 
clustered around the fire in the sitting-room. The Judge 
followed his sister on tip-toe. They returned in half an hour, 
looking very important and mysterious, both of them. 

Children,” said the little mother, “Santa Claus brought 
something which you have not yet seen. Come along, dar- 
lings, and Fll show you. Come, Edward ; bring Margy.” 

The children followed delightedly. Mama led the way 
into the parlor, and thus into the outer hall, and so into the 
great drawing-room, where the little ones arrivM in hot 
haste, and, lo ! a vision of wondrous beauty burst upon their 
astonished eyes ; nothing less than a Christmas tree, beauti- 
fully decorated, and flashing with a thousand lights. A 
long-drawn “Oh !” burst from the little throats, which was 
followed by an equally long-drawn “Ah!” Timidly they 
advanced into the room, and hand in hand walked round and 
round this amazing tree, which bore such wonderful fruit. 

The tree was hung with candies of a thousand shapes 
and colors; golden stars glittered here and there; angels 
knelt in adoring attitudes among the branches, or stood 
poised in trembling flight amid the myriad lights. Gold and 
silver apples nestled everywhere, and such a profusion of 
good things dangled from the branches — pink stockings no 
larger than your thumb, filled with candy or nuts of various 
kinds ; hundreds of sticks of candy were strung in careless 
array; balls of popcorn, red and white candy apples hung 
pendant. There was fruit galore; toys in abundance, and 
paper dolls without number. The candles were of all colors, 
red, white, green, yellow, brown, small, slender little things 
— baby candles, nothing less. It was a glorious sight. 


V 


132 THE HEART OF A ROSE. 

Around the base sat six little broad-bearded gnomes, dressed 
all in brown, and wearing curious cowl-like head-coverings ; 
at sight of which quaint figures, Margaret started and paled, 
recalling the gnomes of her dream. She remembered now 
that she had been laughing over these very figures that day. 
How very, very strange ! 

The children, growing bolder by degrees, gathered around 
more closely, putting out their little hands to the many 
fluttering lights. They screamed with delight when the 
Judge handed down a candy apple, beautifully colored and 
crusted all over with sugar. For two hours they danced 
around the tree, constantly discovering new beauties, and 
excitedly calling each other’s attention to them; and then, 
as the evening waxed late, the good Judge began in earnest 
the task of spoliation, beginning with the midget stockings, 
which he cut off and distributed with a just hand; oranges, 
bananas, apples, popcorn, candy, followed in such over- 
whelming profusion that the happy children knew not what 
to do with it all, and so deposited most of the good things 
with Mama for future discussion. 

“Well, Katydid,” said Yedward, halting that little maid as 
she was hurrying past with her second load of goodies. “Do 
you believe in Santa Claus now ?” 

Katydid paused and nodded twice with much solemnity. 

The uproar increased as time passed until you could not 
hear your own voice. The good Judge, perspiring from his 
labors, despoiled the tree gradually of all but its glittering 
ornaments; the children carried away their booty, and re- 
turned screaming for more. Mama encouraged them to 
renewed endeavors, and gayly joined in the noise and con- 
fusion. At last, tired out from their frolic, the little ones 
quieted down; but long ere quiet was restored, our lovers 
had retired from this scene of gayety. Sitting hand in hand 



k 




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Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: 



JUN 1996 

0BKKEEPE 


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